


Kiss of the Spider People

by Singing_Violin



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Violin/pseuds/Singing_Violin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after the episode "Coda," Janeway gets into hot water with some hostile aliens. Just as they're on the brink of developing more than a friendship, Janeway must risk her life to save the ship, and Chakotay must risk something even more valuable in order to save her. Can their relationship survive in any form?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The Star Trek characters and universe are not mine.

_As he knelt before his leader, he marveled at her beauty. Her long, thin legs were covered by tiny hairs that he imagined, should he ever know the pleasure of touching them, would be of the finest, softest texture he had ever felt. Those legs tapered gracefully into her richly-colored torso, which led seamlessly to her perfectly-shaped head, in which were set the most piercing pair of eyes he had ever had the pleasure of being beheld by. Underneath that head emanated a long, graceful set of arms with which she gave generously to her people._

_But today, it was his time to give back._

" _You have done well, my son," she soothed as he attempted to store her magnificent figure in his memory for his journey to eternity. One arm came out to lightly caress the top of his head, and a surge of ecstasy went through him at the contact._

" _It has been an honor," he replied effortlessly. "My life is, and has always been, yours to command."_

" _Your existence has been a productive one," she assessed, "but it is forfeit now. We shall cherish you in death as we did in life. Your body will provide ample nourishment to your people."_

_He crouched even lower, bowing his gratitude. "It is as it should be," he answered gratefully, though his voice was tinged with sadness. "I yield to you, my leader and my mother, who created me and whom I have lived to serve."_

_She reached out and, with a sharp talon that protruded from the end of one of her graceful arms, pierced his skull. Instantly, he collapsed to the floor, his legs bent double so as never again to support his weight. Then she motioned to the guards at her side, two of which came forward and ceremoniously lifted the body between them._

" _Bring me the head for encoding," she instructed, "and when he is ready, divide the rest among the people."_

" _It shall be done," they replied, nearly in unison, bowing their assent even while balancing the body between them._

" _And now we wait for the other," she whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear._

* * *

Chakotay struggled not to cry – not to show much emotion at all – as he carried Kathryn's limp body in his arms for the second time in as many months. She was so pale, her eyelashes falling gracefully onto drawn cheeks. The protrusion of her bones belied the weight that settled between his elbows as he cradled her, and that meager evidence of her toned strength left him with the tiniest bit of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness, instilling in him the courage he required to proceed as planned.

As he placed her body into the specially-designed coffin, he resisted the urge to brush his lips across her forehead. Although she could not object to the gesture of affection, he would not risk giving the impression that she was more to him than an obstacle at this juncture, and that the care with which he placed her supple form in the cold, hard box was anything more than lingering respect and an attempt not to antagonize her former crew. As he gently dropped the body onto the cushions, he flipped the hidden switch that would put her into stasis, and silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that the device would operate properly.

Then the lid closed, shielding her from view.

"Captain Janeway led us well," he began, his voice carefully steady so as not to betray his inner turmoil. "But it was not enough. It is time for new leadership, new tactics. I have accepted command of this vessel and have only one intention from this day forward: to do whatever it takes to get this crew home."

"Hear, hear," offered Tom Paris, raising a glass of brandy. Nervously, the others looked around, and, after a moment during which Chakotay dared not breathe for fear the game would be lost, joined in the toast.

As Chakotay drank, he relished the sting of the pungent liquid as it burned his throat. There would be no synthehol today; he needed all the effects of genuine alcohol for his own sanity.

"Let us commit her body to space, that she may spend eternity exploring as she spent her life," Chakotay spoke when the murmur had died out.

With that, he inputted the command to shoot the coffin out the airlock, and silently the crew watched their captain float away into the emptiness, the container in which she lay growing small amidst the backdrop of distant stars.

He turned, then, to his alien guests. "I believe we have some negotiations to begin," he stated, gesturing for them to follow him out of the cargo bay. His feet felt leaden as they walked side by side, and his heart sank in his chest with every step. He couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that had settled upon him like a thundercloud on a summer's afternoon. Finally, they arrived at their destination, and he invited his guests to make themselves comfortable.

It wasn't often that non-humanoid species were hosted in a Federation vessel's conference room, and it had been fitted with special furniture to accommodate their unique physiology. Chakotay found himself remembering the glee with which Kathryn had accepted their offer to meet.

" _Isn't it wonderful?" she whispered to him from her seat beside him on the bridge. Her face glowed with anticipation of once again encountering the unknown. "This is what we're here for."_

_Chakotay didn't share her enthusiasm, but he understood it. Smiling and nodding, he answered, "Indeed, Captain. This should be interesting, to say the least."_

_For that, she graced him with the smile that always seemed to light up the whole room she was in. It wasn't often he got that smile out of her, and it was truly infectious. He found himself overcoming his reservations almost immediately to join her in understated revelry._

_In the back of his mind, he knew he should be cautioning her, but he didn't want to dampen her rare bright mood. What, really, could go wrong? These were just another friendly species with whom they'd just made First Contact …_

When the aliens were settled, Chakotay took a deep breath before commencing what he hoped would appear to be a good faith effort. "I am willing to offer you the technology to replicate food from nothing more than the molecules in your environment. In return, we would like safe passage through your space."

He waited as the large, spindly creatures made odd clicking noises, undoubtedly language that the Universal Translator had yet to interpret, and hoped beyond hope that the plan would succeed. What he did not know is that they were discussing whether or not this replication technology could suitably satisfy their taste for the flesh of sentient creatures.

However, he too harbored a secret. The aliens did not fathom that he had just buried his captain and best friend in space, alive.

What neither Chakotay nor the aliens knew was that – although she was alive at the moment, thanks in part to the hidden stasis machine – she was slowly dying of the same cause the aliens believed had already killed her. If the mission were not successful, she would be quite dead within the week.

But then again, most likely so would the rest of the _Voyager_ 's crew.


	2. First Contact

**Two days earlier …**

_He bowed low in deference to his leader, who waited patiently, reposed upon her ornate perch, for his report. Her arm reached out, and with a single pointy tip, she signaled for him to speak._

" _My queen, my mother," he began, "the Voyagers come. They have already entered our space, and within 64 cycles, they will approach our coordinates."_

_She clicked her approval while gesturing with another thin limb. "What are their capabilities?" she asked._

" _We can match them in velocity," he replied, "and in battle, we would easily prevail. But the rumors are true: they can effortlessly transform matter into energy and back."_

_She paused for a moment, contemplating the news. "So it is possible," she answered, "what our tinkerers have failed to accomplish for 33554432 cycles."_

" _Yes, it is," he confirmed._

_She stood then, her four legs raising her up to loom above him. "And you have a plan to obtain this technology?" she asked._

" _Yes. You have already heard that they will not trade it, not even for their own lives?"_

" _Indeed, we learned that from our recent detainees. Thank you for their capture. They were delicious."_

_He bowed lower, his antennae erect with pleasure at the praise. "There is additional information," he began with pride, hoping that she would favor him with a suitable reward when his mission was complete. "The second-in-command of the Voyagers is a former sworn enemy of its leader. They reluctantly agreed to join forces for the purpose of survival."_

_She crept slowly around the room, thinking. "And how can we use that to our advantage?"_

" _It is very simple," he replied happily. "We need only assassinate the leader. The second-in-command will assume its duties, and as we have given that creature the command it desires, it will be pleased with us and return our favor. And if it does not comply, we shall threaten to kill it too, and so forth, until one of them concedes."_

" _And how do we know that they shall not all die, leaving us with no way of interpreting their documentation?"_

" _Half of them were under the second-in-command before they joined forces. They have different ideals. There is unrest among them. Several have turned already. They want to survive, and will do whatever it takes to keep their lives."_

_Her antennae gyrated with amusement. "Such petty creatures, valuing their own lives so highly. And how do you plan to carry out the assassination?"_

_The answer pleased her very much._

* * *

"Kathryn," Chakotay called, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

She jumped slightly, turning to face him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Amused, he smiled, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. "It's your turn."

"Oh," she responded sheepishly, "right." She then raised her cue, angling herself for the shot.

Chakotay cleared his throat loudly, and she blinked, realizing that perhaps her strategy was not the right one. Repositioning herself, she tried again. Lightly, she tapped the cue ball, and it shot past her target, hitting off the wall and stopping in the middle of the table. She stood back, astonished and disappointed at her failure.

The commander shook his head, just as baffled as she, and mused as to how honest he should be with her. "Kathryn," he observed, "I've never seen you scratch before. You can usually beat me in your sleep. So, you're either letting me win … and Gods know why after years of cleaning my clock … or there's something on your mind."

She tried to smile at him through her embarrassment, but was only about half successful, and he suddenly found himself rather worried. The recent shuttle crash had affected him too … he'd had repeated nightmares in which the outcome of the crash was not nearly as favorable. He knew that Kathryn's experience – being pressured by an alien masquerading as her late father to let go and accept death – had been as disturbing, if not more so, than his own struggle to revive her – but he had believed that their moonlight sail on the holodeck's version of Lake George and concomitant discussion had eased most of her conflicted emotions.

It hadn't. At least, not the ones that were distracting her now. It had started on New Earth, when she had found herself overwhelmingly drawn to her first officer and, stricken with the revelation, asserted that they needed parameters for their relationship. In truth, she'd wanted nothing more than to turn around from that heavenly massage, throw him to the floor, and kiss him … but she was still clinging to the hope … somehow … that she would be able to return home in time to marry Mark. To admit her feelings for Chakotay would be unfaithful of her, so she denied them. Furthermore, if, perchance, they were able to escape from that planet and resume their duties aboard _Voyager_ , their relationship would have to change, and might provide unwanted complication and distraction.

It was after they returned to the ship, however, that she regretted not having acted on her feelings. She was suddenly imbued with a deep sense of loss, and the feeling that she had given up her only chance for something very special. Although she treasured the bond they had developed and the platonic companionship he provided – she wouldn't be comfortable playing pool alone on the holodeck with just any member of her crew – her recent experience had reminded her of how deep her feelings for him still ran. To make it worse, she'd witnessed his tears over her dead body, and even as she'd puzzled over the situation, her heart had leapt at the discovery that he, too, harbored a continuing attachment to her. But when that vision had proven to be just another illusion cruelly provided by the alien who wanted her essence for its "nourishment," she found her heart once again ripped painfully from her chest.

She'd wanted to admit to him what she'd seen, after he'd given her a rose and she'd invited him to the holodeck for an intimate celebration for two, but had ultimately lost courage and decided discretion was best. She was desperately afraid to find out that he'd truly moved on.

And now, as he regarded her curiously, she found it difficult not to admire his slightly-graying hair, the intriguing shape of his tattoo, his shapely muscles –

Again, he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Do you want to come to my quarters and talk?" he asked quietly, heart pounding with the realization that this was the boldest overture he'd made to her since his Angry Warrior speech, and that, should the invitation make her uncomfortable, he could completely lose the opportunity to find out what was bothering her. Heck, if he managed to sufficiently unnerve her, he could lose much more than that – her friendship, his job –

She blinked, considering the request and its implications. But before she could reply, her communicator beeped.

"Tuvok to Captain Janeway," she heard. "Please report to the bridge."

At once relieved to be rescued and annoyed at being interrupted, Janeway answered quickly. "I'm on my way," she responded, moving towards the exit with Chakotay tailing her closely.

* * *

The figure that appeared on the screen seemed angry, but what gave that impression, Janeway couldn't say. Its oddly-shaped figure, supported by four thin, hard legs and accentuated by four more limbs underneath what seemed to be its head, gave no obvious sign of any emotion. When it spoke, however, the instinct was confirmed.

At first, the translator could not process the language, but after a slew of clicking noises had been dispatched – from somewhere inside its exoskeleton – the computer finally found meaning in the sounds.

"You have violated our space," the alien accused. "You will submit to boarding and questioning."

Janeway held up her hand, her calm and composed demeanor nothing like the timidity she had displayed just a few minutes earlier. "I apologize," she began, "but we did not know it was your space. We come from very far away, and we wish only to find our way home. If you can give us the coordinates of the boundaries of your space, we can navigate around it – or, if you prefer, perhaps there is something we can offer you in trade for passage through your space."

She expected a refusal, and was prepared for more desperate tactics, but was surprised by their easy acquiescence.

"Yes," answered the alien, "we would be willing to allow you to pass through our space, for an appropriate price. We shall be on your ship in sixteen cycles."

Not knowing what a "cycle" was, nor why they insisted upon meeting on her ship, but not wanting to push her luck, Janeway agreed. "I look forward to meeting you in person," she said.

The alien bowed slightly by way of bending all of its lanky legs simultaneously, lowering its torso between them. "It shall be a pleasure to eat you."

With that, the screen went blank, and Captain Janeway raised an eyebrow, eying Harry Kim. "Let's get that translator checked, shall we?" she ordered.

"Aye, Captain," he responded, but paused for a moment, looking uncomfortable.

"Is there something on your mind, Ensign?" Janeway asked.

The young man took a deep breath, pondering his response, and decided to share what he was thinking. After all, the captain had always been receptive to him; although he missed his parents dearly, she had become somewhat of a mother figure to him, and that had helped him to adjust to life without them. "It's just that … they give me the willies," he admitted. At that, Tom Paris snickered from the helm.

Janeway turned to glare at her pilot, and he quieted immediately. Then she rotated around, meeting the eyes of all of the bridge officers in turn before she spoke. Their expressions revealed that more than one of them shared Ensign Kim's misgivings, and the captain resolved to put a stop to it before it got out of hand.

Her voice was tinged with regret and anger. "I understand irrational fear, but it must be battled and overcome. This is a Starfleet crew, and we are still members of the Federation, even though we are very far from home. Xenophobia has no place among us. These may be non-humanoids, but until we know differently, they are potential friends and allies, and they are to be afforded the same respect we would show any other race. Is that clear?"

There was a muted murmur of "Aye, Captain"s as Harry colored slightly, embarrassed by his outburst.

"Now," she continued, "we have some guests who will be arriving shortly. Obviously, our accommodations won't be suited to their needs, so are there any volunteers to help with designing something more comfortable for their visit?"

She looked around, and most of her crewmen still seemed rather ill at ease. The eldest member of the bridge crew spoke up. "I am willing to coordinate the effort," he answered, "but I will require assistance."

"Good," she replied. "You'll lead the team, Mister Tuvok. Recruit whomever you need, though I suggest Lieutenant Torres and Mister Neelix, for starters." The Vulcan nodded his assent and turned to exit.

Chakotay grinned at Kathryn as she sat down beside him. He marveled at her complete and instant transformation into the authoritative captain, even as he whispered a word of reassurance. "He'll do a good job," he said.

Her eyes shone with anticipation as she returned his smile, albeit briefly and muted. "I know. Now if only I knew how long we have to wait …"

* * *

**Four hours later.**

Kathryn was on the verge of falling asleep in the captain's chair – she had been planning to retire following her game with Chakotay – when the hail alert sounded. Perking up immediately, she commanded, "On screen."

The face of the arachnoid creature once again appeared, large and menacing, but in its enigmatic countenance she saw only the potential for new knowledge and friendship.

It did not bother with formalities. "Prepare for our arrival in your Shuttle Bay," it instructed.

Captain Janeway was not put off by the curtness – she, after all, had been trained to tolerate a wide variety of different cultures among alien species – and replied warmly. "I will greet you personally," she answered.

She gestured for Chakotay to follow her to the turbolift, then gave the bridge to Lieutenant Paris. As the doors closed, she tapped her communicator. "Janeway to Tuvok, please report to Cargo Bay One. And tell your team to bring whatever they have ready to the conference room. Our guests are arriving."

"Acknowledged," he answered.

Chakotay turned to his commanding officer. "Captain," he queried, "why are they arriving by shuttle, and not beaming aboard?"

Her eyebrow shot up at his astute observation. "I suppose it's possible they don't have transporter technology yet. Odd that their weapons and propulsion systems could be so advanced while they lack something as basic as a transporter, but technologies do develop differently in different cultures."

"Computer, halt turbolift," Chakotay ordered.

"What is it, Chakotay?" asked Janeway.

"Captain, I'm just thinking that there's more going on here than we know. They outmatch us in weapons, they can chase us if we run, and yet they will happily negotiate with us instead of taking whatever they need by force. To top it off, they don't have basic transporter technology – and, if they don't have that, they probably don't have replicator technology either. There's something amiss here, and – don't say it – it's not their lack of humanoid bodies that's bothering me."

Janeway sighed. "I appreciate your candor, Commander, but until we know otherwise, they are to be trusted."

He opened his mouth again, but she interrupted him before he could object. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. Resume."

* * *

It was with dismay that Kathryn received their request. While they did not name specific technologies, and she wasn't about to reveal all of their abilities, they hinted at the desire for instantaneous molecular travel. She refused graciously, citing the Prime Directive, but it was unclear what else _Voyager_ had to offer – and without a satisfactory prize, their fate was uncertain at best.

She was describing the plethora of historical knowledge and wisdom that she was willing to share when she caught one of the aliens fiddling with an electronic device. She held out her hand and demanded to see it, expecting to be rebuked, and once again was surprised by easy obeisance.

As the alien handed her the device, bowing in apology for its misstep, the sharp end of its limb grazed her hand, and she yelped slightly as the pain startled her. Within a moment, however, the sting subsided, and the cut was soon forgotten as she examined the device. As she had suspected, the alien had been downloading Federation files – no doubt in an attempt to capture the technology she would not willingly give.

Surprising her yet again, the other alien rose from its perch and approached her. "My apologies for this egg's misbehavior," it spoke. "We shall discipline him while we consider your generous offer."

Janeway nodded, as puzzled as ever with the turn of events, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. The aliens did not even attempt to retrieve their device, and she was left momentarily stunned, holding it as they exited the room, followed by the security guards assigned to escort them.

When they were gone, she turned to her crewmembers. "I suppose that'll be all for now," she stated. "Dismissed, but prepare to reconvene on short notice."

Quickly, they filed out, leaving only Chakotay, who eyed her with concern as she yawned, finally succumbing to her fatigue.

"Let me walk you to your quarters," he offered, and, still mulling over the odd behavior of the aliens, she agreed without thought.

When they arrived, she invited him in, intending to receive his thoughts on the situation. He sat beside her on the couch, but his words were lost as her eyes drifted closed.

He rose from his seat, disappointed because he'd hoped, after the tactical discussion, he could revisit the topic they had touched upon in the holodeck. However, she was clearly too fatigued to carry on a coherent discourse about anything.

"Kathryn," he called quietly, and she blinked, struggling to focus on his face.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay," she responded sleepily. "What were you saying?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. I think I should be going. Please get some rest, Captain, while you can. We don't know when they'll be returning."

She acquiesced immediately. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought," she admitted. "I'll see you in the morning."

Nodding, he turned and exited her quarters.


	3. Illness

_When Captain Janeway came to, the first thing she noticed was that there was smoke everywhere. For a moment, she looked around, struggling to identify her surroundings, and quickly came to the conclusion that she was in a shuttlecraft. And, from the condition of its inside, she surmised it had crashed._

_Blinking furiously against the haze that was summoning tears from her stinging eyes, she looked around, sure that there was someone with her in the shuttle. But who was it?_

_A moment and her muddled mind salvaged the answer … Chakotay. That was who she was looking for._

_Frantically, she searched around, coughing every time she inhaled. Finally, she spotted an immobile leg on the floor. She crawled towards it._

_But it was too thin, too small to be Chakotay's. To whom, then, did the leg belong?_

_Drawing closer, she saw short-cropped, blonde hair atop a head that faced away from her._

_Oh no. Kes._

_Janeway climbed over debris in an effort to reach her, and when she finally approached, she put her finger to the Ocampa's neck._

_No pulse._

_Oh God._

_And Chakotay … he was here too, somewhere._

_But she had to save Kes._

_She climbed around so that she was standing over Kes, and bent down to breathe into the girl's still mouth._

_As she came up for air, she noticed an arm on the other side of the shuttle. An arm that most certainly did not belong to the body she was attempting to revive._

_Moaning involuntarily, she started compressions on the body below her, then repeated the respiration._

_Kes still wouldn't breathe._

_And Chakotay was on the other side of the shuttle …_

_Climbing again over Kes's body to approach the other, she realized that it, too, was deathly still._

_Dead._

_Chakotay._

_And Kes._

_Holding her breath against the increasingly noxious smoke, she found the other body and, as she had feared, it was that of her first officer._

_Pressing her fingers to his neck, she learned what she had already suspected._

_He, too, had expired._

_She cried out in horror. Who to save? Kes, who was like a daughter to her, or Chakotay, who she couldn't imagine living without?_

_It was too difficult to decide._

_Blackness overcame her._

_When she regained consciousness, she was in Sickbay, with Tuvok and the EMH standing over her. The Doctor's grim expression confirmed what she already knew._

_She hadn't saved either one of them._

" _I will escort you to your quarters," said the Vulcan coolly. Was that a note of accusation in his voice? It was all her fault. Her fault that Chakotay and Kes were dead._

_As guilt washed over her, she found herself in her bed. She tried to rise, but hadn't the energy._

_Someone was standing over her, telling her to get up. She hid under the covers and pressed the pillow over her head._

_Nobody was going to make her face the cruel reality she had created._

_And then she was wet. Someone had poured water over her … Phoebe …_

_She opened her eyes, but the creature standing over her was not her sister, but one of the aliens._

_She screamed._

Kathryn awoke panting and doubting whether she was really awake this time. For one thing, she was all wet.

But she was on _Voyager_ , her sister on the other side of the galaxy … so who had so cruelly awakened her with liquid torture?

"Computer," she commanded, "who was the last person in my quarters, other than me?"

"Commander Chakotay," it answered blankly.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "And when did he exit?" she asked.

"Oh two hundred thirty-seven hours," it replied.

That was before she'd gone to bed.

And that meant there was another explanation. Suddenly, she knew what had happened.

She hadn't wet her bed since she was three years old.

Horrified, she jumped out of the bed, her hand over her mouth and her eyes threatening to dispense the tears that the smoke had evoked in her dream.

She struggled to control her breathing as she looked down at the damning evidence of her latest conclusion.

She rubbed her hands over her face, hoping that when she removed them, the disturbing image would be gone, a vestige of her nightmare. But when her eyes again gazed upon her own bed, the damp area upon it had not disappeared.

Furiously blinking back tears, she pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the refresher. She then headed to the bathroom to clean herself up.

She attributed the shaking of her limbs as she spread lather over her body to the trauma of her situation. It didn't occur to her that the palsy could be connected to the morning's pre-waking events.

* * *

_They had laughed at him. Laughed, because he refused to eat anything that could understand language. It limited his diet; he was terribly thin, almost misshapen in his emaciation. Laughed, because he was a tinkerer, and with his eyes continually on output screens, he had never learned the formalities that would have allowed him to rise in rank. Laughed, because he did not pine after Her as the others did. Laughed, because, in fact, he had shown no interest in females at all …_

_It was time for a Revolution. The arrival of the alien ship had excited him; he knew that, if anyone could save his people, they could. It was a measure of faith he had never shown in his own leaders, but, curiously enough, that didn't seem odd to him._

_He had served his queen, as expected. He had made sure to be participating in the mission – after all, they would need a tinkerer to understand the aliens' technology._

_What they did not know was that the aliens could offer nothing the tinkerer didn't know already. It was an unwritten rule in the tinkerer community not to share such knowledge with the ruling class. It resided in physical manuals kept under lock and key, awaiting such a time as it would be safe to share. What use, after all, would artificially-created food be, if the thrill of the meal was in the cessation of consciousness?_

_Those in power still believed what the tinkerers had told them – that such a feat would be impossible, that it defied the rules of nature. The tinkerers could even prove as much – using a simple assumption that, 32768 cycles ago, had been discovered to be false –_

_He lamented the fact that the alien leader had to be executed. It was a necessary evil. Revolutions, as a general rule, did not occur without the spilling of bodily juices. But he made sure that the aliens were left with information he hoped would help them to defeat his egomaniacal autocrat –_

* * *

Captain Janeway couldn't seem to sit still. Despite overwhelming and inexplicable exhaustion, she forced herself to pace around the bridge, and when that grew suspicious – as evidenced by the peculiar glances she was receiving from various members of the bridge crew – she retreated to her ready room, where she continued to pace, in between curiously frequent trips to the bathroom.

She kept telling herself to calm down, that what happened this morning was nothing but a fluke – certainly, weirder things had happened on her ship – but in the back of her mind, she knew that something was wrong.

It was when she happened to peek upon the telltale red smear on the toilet paper that she knew, for certain, that there was a problem she had to address. She sighed, resigning herself to a dreaded visit to Sickbay.

The door chimed.

She cursed. Her field trip would have to wait. Washing her hands, she reentered the main room and invited her visitor to come in.

He looked uncomfortable. _Probably not as uncomfortable as I feel_ , she thought.

"Captain," he started timidly, "is everything all right?"

She raised an eyebrow and deliberately deflected his question. "What's on your mind, Commander?"

As she spoke, she approached the coffee table, where she attempted to fill her cup with the beverage that, she mused, she really shouldn't be drinking, as it was undoubtedly contributing to her difficulties. As she poured, her hand shook, and hot coffee sloshed onto the floor while she nearly dropped the cup as the liquid scalded her skin.

Cursing, she replaced both items on the table and grabbed a cloth to wipe her hands. She didn't know what annoyed her more – that she had been so clumsy, or that her first officer had witnessed the whole episode.

Unhappily, Chakotay frowned. "You've seemed a bit ill-at-ease all morning," he admitted. "We were … uh, I was worried."

Noting his slip but not wanting to discover the impetus behind it, she snapped at him, "I'm fine, Commander. Why don't you attend to your own duties, and leave me to mine?"

His eyes lowered to the floor. "With all due respect, Captain, looking after the well-being of this crew's commanding officer **is** my duty."

Sighing again and struggling against the strange and sudden impulse to cry, she carefully lowered her voice for her response. "To be honest, Commander, I haven't quite been myself this morning, but I'm sure it's just a bit of stress. I was about to take a walk. I have some things to take care of."

He nodded, not quite satisfied with her response, but mollified for the moment. "Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked.

She glared at him. "No – thank you, Commander, but that won't be necessary. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an errand to attend to … and you have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain," he responded, nodding.

"Call me immediately if the aliens return," she reminded him as he was turning to exit.

That elicited a small smile from the tall man. "Will do," he answered.

* * *

"What can I do for you, Captain?" asked the EMH as she entered his domain.

She peered around, making sure there was nobody else present, then cursed herself for being so self-conscious. "I think I have a UTI," she admitted.

The Doctor raised a holographic eyebrow, and it seemed to her that she was being mocked. "Last I checked, Captain, I was the doctor. Why don't you hop on the biobed and let _me_ diagnose _you_?"

She rolled her eyes but did as he suggested.

"Now, what are your symptoms?" he asked harshly.

She really didn't want to answer, but she quickly rattled them off like a laundry list, with as little affect as possible. "Fatigue, muscle weakness, frequent urination, blood in the urine …"

"Hmm," the bald hologram mused as he began scanning her while she waited patiently. As he examined her, he grabbed her arm. "How did you injure your hand, Captain?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh," she responded offhandedly. "I spilled some coffee on it a little while ago. It's nothing."

"Hrmph," the Doctor answered. "Aside from the fact that you are ignoring a borderline second-degree burn, there is also the matter of this laceration, which presumably was not caused by a coffee spill."

"Laceration?" she asked bemusedly. "What are you talking about?"

He held up her hand so she could see it clearly, pointing to the angry red line that marred its surface. "I am referring to this," he clarified. "Now, do you have an explanation?"

She thought for a moment, not remembering, but then recalled the incident. "Oh, the aliens have some sharp claws. One of them scratched me slightly as I confiscated something from him. It's really nothing to be concerned about. I'd rather you focus on the infection. It's been annoying me, and the sooner I can get back to the bridge, the better …"

"Captain," the Doctor scolded as he passed a dermal regenerator over her hand, "all of your injuries are my concern. Now, if you would please, lie back and relax while I analyze these scans."

Janeway glared at him, but, as she was particularly exhausted, did as he bade while he disappeared into his office. A lone tear trickled down her cheek and into her ear, and she hastily wiped it away.

When the Doctor returned, he looked rather alarmed. She sat up quickly, and he peered at her warily, contemplating whether to order her to lie back down, but ultimately allowing her to remain erect in anticipation of more arguments if he didn't.

"You have lost fifteen percent of your body mass since I last examined you, Captain," he observed.

Quickly, she attempted to find an explanation. "I suppose I haven't had much time to eat lately," she admitted, "and it's difficult with rations in short supply and Neelix's cooking not exactly – "

The EMH cut her off. "This is much more than can be explained by a few skipped meals, Captain. My scans show there is an enzyme in your system that is breaking down your body even as we speak. Your toxicity levels are off the charts, and that would explain your frequent urges. Your body must necessarily eliminate the waste byproducts of the process."

Her eyes went wide. "Can you counteract it?"

The hologram frowned. "At the moment, I don't know how. But if you'll remain here in Sickbay, I can analyze the compound and monitor your condition simultaneously."

She shook her head as she hopped off the biobed. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I have work to do. Let me know when you've found something."

The EMH grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving. "Wait, Captain," he chided. "You may be able to help in the investigation. It seems logical that the enzyme was delivered via that injury on your hand; you said the alien scratched you?"

"That's right," she answered, puzzled as to where he was going with this.

"Is there anything you know or can find out about the aliens that would help us to understand what this chemical is and why it was introduced into your system?"

"For all we know, Doctor, it was an accident," Janeway warned. But the problem was now a curiosity and her mind immediately took it to task.

After a moment, she mumbled, "Pleasure to eat you …"

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Doctor.

"When we first met them, they said, 'It will be a pleasure to eat you,' and I assumed it was a problem with the translator, but what if it was a literal interpretation?"

The Doctor looked confused, but Janeway was quickly getting excited at her revelation. "What if it is their habit to eat living beings? Then perhaps the enzyme in my system is some sort of … digestive fluid. Spiders, they wrap their prey and inject it with venom, which breaks it down so that they can eat it later."

The EMH's expression was inscrutable. "That would fit the observations," he admitted, "but why would they inject it into a living being?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but I intend to find out. Preferably before this thing kills me," she added dryly.

The Doctor sighed as she practically ran out the door.


	4. The Plan

Her heart pounding, Kathryn entered the turbolift and was relieved to find it empty. She wasn't sure she could manage friendly small talk with one of her crewmen right now. Ordering the bridge, she briefly leaned against the wall, hoping to anchor herself against the tidal wave of reaction that was sure to come.

It wasn't enough.

Her head was spinning and her stomach flip-flopped. Unbidden, her body convulsed, and suddenly, she found herself doubled over, her meager breakfast all over the carpeted floor.

"Halt turbolift," she ordered when she'd regained her breath. Slowly, she slid down against the wall until she was seated on the floor, her knees against her chest, her mind filled with an unshakeable uneasiness. Her face screwed up, and instinctively, she covered it with her hands.

Her meltdown lasted only a few seconds, however, and when her hands fell back down, taking with them the solitary tear that had escaped from her eye, she had calmed her breathing and her heart to the point where she could at least think. As she gazed upon the turbolift floor, her first thought was of the necessity of cleaning up.

With that, she redirected the turbolift to Deck Three without standing up. When it arrived, she slowly rose, then took the lift offline and sealed the doors. After hastily rinsing out her mouth, she gathered cleaning supplies from her quarters and returned to make her best attempt to erase the evidence of her illness. There was one thing for certain in her mind: nobody was going to find out, at least until she had figured out what was going on, or was unable to hide it any longer.

When she was satisfied that she'd done the best she could – the chemical powder would eliminate any odor, and only a careful inspection of the floor would reveal the faint stain – she returned to her quarters where, spent, she flopped down on the couch, the bed still unavailable as she hadn't yet had the opportunity to replace her sheets. Her eyelids heavy, she realized that she ought to warn Chakotay she had been detained, lest he worry and investigate.

Sighing, she tapped her communicator. "Janeway to Chakotay," she called. "My errands are taking longer than expected. You have the bridge for the remainder of the shift. Let me know if there is a situation that needs my attention."

"Acknowledged," he answered, though there was an odd note in his voice; she hoped her own had not been too obviously unsteady over the comm.

With that, she found herself drifting off, the images of the last few days running through her mind, an involuntary review session for the upcoming final exam.

 _Final_ , she thought. _That's apt_.

At the edge of consciousness, her eyes suddenly flew open, drawn to the object on the coffee table. It had been carelessly left there last night, both occupants of her quarters too exhausted and preoccupied at the time to consider examining it.

Quickly, she grabbed the device and began to explore. Apparently, it had not been blank when the download of Federation material had commenced. Interfacing it with a padd, she initiated translation protocols.

It was soon apparent that she was going to need help.

She tapped her communicator once again. "Janeway to Torres," she ordered. "Please report to my quarters."

A few minutes later, the half-Klingon was standing at attention before her. She handed the engineer the padd.

"What's this?" asked B'Elanna curiously.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she thrust a finger towards it for emphasis. "This," she replied, "is a translation of everything that was on that device our guests so courteously left for us."

She waited as the other woman began to scroll through, her eyes growing wider with every screenful of information scanned. "This is –" Her voice trailed off as she continued reading.

"Indeed," answered the captain. "They have given us detailed schematics of their ship. We're going to figure out how to disable it."

At that, the engineer looked up askance at her captain. "What if it's a trap?" she asked suspiciously.

Janeway nodded knowingly. "I considered that," she answered, "but look here." She wrested the padd from B'Elanna's hand, pressed a few buttons, and returned it to the engineer.

B'Elanna, rendered speechless, could only listen as the captain continued. "This could still be an elaborate ruse," Janeway warned, "but it looks like they have a traitor in their midst."

After a moment, when the fundamental situation had been digested, B'Elanna found her voice. "So, what would you like me to do?" she asked.

"We don't have much time," Janeway answered quickly, hoping that the other woman would not think to ask why. "I'd like you to find me the easiest way to disable as much of their ship as quickly as possible, preferably without killing them in the process. We're just trying to get out of here without incident."

"Understood, Captain," the lieutenant acknowledged. "I'll have that for you as soon as I can."

Janeway nodded to give her permission to leave, and she turned and exited the captain's quarters, attempting not to bump into walls as she continued scrolling through the plethora of information on the padd.

"Hurry," Kathryn whispered to the closing doors.

* * *

A voice was calling to her. It seemed the source was quite far away, separated by a lengthy tunnel filled with a thick haze. Her eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus as she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"Kathryn," it called again.

The mist cleared, the tunnel contracted, and a handsome, concerned face coalesced in her field of vision as, using the back of the couch for leverage, she sat up.

"Chakotay," she acknowledged, still shaking the remnants of sleep from her muddled mind. "What are you doing in my quarters? Why aren't you on the bridge?"

He smiled. "The shift is over, Captain. And B'Elanna tried to comm you, but you didn't answer. She was concerned; said you looked really tired earlier."

Suddenly alarmed, Kathryn's hands drew up to her face, as if she could feel whether or not she looked fatigued. Realizing the absurdity of her action, she lowered her arms to rest in her lap. "I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted carefully, "but I feel much better now."

He wasn't convinced, but forewent further questioning in favor of the pressing business he'd come to discuss. "Captain, we heard back from the aliens. They're arriving in about two hours, but it doesn't look promising. I don't think they have any respect for the Prime Directive."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "And why would they?"

Before he could attempt to answer the rhetorical question, she spoke again. "What did B'Elanna want?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, "but it sounded urgent. Would you like me to call her here?"

The captain thought for a moment. "No. In fact, if they're returning in two hours, we'll need to prepare. Let the rest of the senior staff know there will be a meeting in Conference Room Two in one hour. I'll meet with Lieutenant Torres first."

"Aye, Captain," he acknowledged, but lingered for a moment, contemplating whether to inquire about her well-being.

She anticipated his remark, however, and cut it off. "Dismissed," she ordered, realizing that she was being particularly brusque, but knowing that she couldn't afford to have him worrying about her. For all she knew, it would fall upon him to complete this business with the aliens after she succumbed to the poison inside of her.

As he left, she shivered at the thought, but quickly returned her mind to the task at hand. She tapped her communicator. "Janeway to Torres," she began. "Please report to Conference Room Two ASAP."

"I'm on my way," she heard.

Then, after a quick trip to the bathroom to empty her ever-full bladder and revitalize her appearance, she exited her quarters and headed over to meet her engineer.

She tried not to dwell on the unsteadiness of her feet.

* * *

Janeway reluctantly sipped from a coffee cup full of water as she peered at her Chief Engineer. Her head had begun to pound on the way over, and, although it seemed that any fluids she took in were coming back out at an alarming rate, the signs of dehydration were obvious and she resigned herself to imbibing enough water to stave off the inevitable: she hoped to live long enough to see _Voyager_ safely out of this quagmire, even if it meant she was going to have to run out in the middle of a meeting.

"I hope you have good news," said Janeway, though the engineer's expression didn't bode well.

The lieutenant took a deep breath before reporting. "I think I know how to disable their main computer," she answered, "which should hinder propulsion and weapons … anything that's not on independent systems. They're not very good about backups, maybe because they'd rather have more functionality and consider redundancy a waste of space. In fact, it looks like life support is the only function that persists if the main computer is sufficiently broken." The captain's eyes lit up, but Torres continued with a sentence that dampened her spirit. "There's a problem though."

"Oh?" Janeway prompted.

"I don't know how to do it remotely," B'Elanna admitted. "As far as I can tell, someone needs to be inside their ship to physically alter the configuration of the circuitry."

"Hmm," answered Janeway, immediately putting her mind to task as she placed her mug on the conference table, grabbed the padd, and began to pace while she scanned through the chief engineer's calculations.

After a few minutes, she looked up, and her words were plain. "I suppose we'll have to get someone aboard that ship," she concurred.

Torres looked astonished. "But how? Their shields won't allow us to transport …"

At that, the captain smiled slightly. "Just show me exactly what needs to be done. Let me worry about how to get someone over there."

Baffled, but trusting her captain – who more than once had achieved the seemingly impossible – B'Elanna nodded obediently and began to explain.

The captain was quite certain she knew how to accomplish her task by the time the others arrived. As they began to trickle in, she excused herself, and when she returned, she was set upon by five pairs of expectant eyes. The Doctor had declined to attend on account of a "very important project" that needed his immediate attention – the project, of course, being the cure for Captain Janeway's condition, though his program's doctor-patient confidentiality subroutine did not allow him to reveal it specifically. Luckily too, Chakotay hadn't thought to ask.

"Greetings," she started. "As some of you may know, the aliens are returning within the hour." She saw several nods in response. "Rumor has it that they are not going to accept our offer."

At that, Ensign Kim frowned, crestfallen, while Lieutenant Torres appeared just about ready to hit someone. Tuvok merely raised an eyebrow, wondering about the source of said 'rumor.'

"I don't know that for certain," she continued, "so we'll give them another chance first. They may be coming back to tell us we can have what we need, but I don't think so."

She lifted her mug from the table and sipped before speaking again. "We believe they know about _Voyager_ 's history, probably from the Kazon or the Vidiians. Assuming this, I have devised a way to combat them." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "It's plausible that, were Commander Chakotay in charge of this vessel, he would not be beholden to the Prime Directive, and would therefore be willing to provide them with the technology they've requested."

She looked over at her second-in-command, noting his alarmed expression, but he wasn't objecting aloud … yet. _Good_ , she thought, _I may just be able to pull this off_.

Lieutenant Paris spoke up then. "So, you're just going to pretend to resign? Then what?"

She smiled at his outburst. "No, Lieutenant, I'm going to pretend to die," she responded, then paused again as a collective gasp pervaded the room.

Before anyone could respond, however, she began again. "Lieutenant Torres has found a way to disable their ship … but it can only be done from the inside. So, we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. With me 'dead,' I will be free to board their ship and sabotage it from the inside. Meanwhile, Commander Chakotay can distract them with an offer they can't refuse."

"But how will you get onto their ship?" repeated B'Elanna, frustrated because the captain hadn't answered her question before. "The shields …"

Janeway wasn't deterred by the interruption, and answered excitedly, quite proud of her plan. "They're going to take my body onto their ship themselves. Based upon their speech patterns and … other clues," she continued, not wanting to elaborate, "I believe they will want to consume it."

At that, Harry Kim looked like he was about to be sick. She walked over to him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ensign," she offered quietly, "I'll be quite alive and able to escape that fate."

Chakotay spoke up then. "What if you're unsuccessful?" he wondered.

She lowered her hand from Harry's shoulder and turned to glare at her first officer. "I don't intend to fail, Commander," she responded pointedly, then lowered her voice slightly, "but I did consider that possibility. If I am unable to disarm them, I want you to offer replicator technology, and ensure that it fails in the same way it did for the Kazon."

Now it was B'Elanna's turn to appear ill, remembering the gruesome scene on the Kazon ship. "Why don't we just do that?" she asked. "Why send you over? It seems like an unnecessary risk … and if you're still there when the replicator fails …"

"I concur," agreed Chakotay. "It's too dangerous."

It was time to put her foot down. "This is not up for debate," she answered. "We don't have time to devise an alternate plan, and I am certain this will work. Furthermore," she added, "I don't want to hurt them unnecessarily. They're sentient beings, and their lives are worth just as much as ours. Our goal is to get _everyone_ home alive – and that includes our returning guests."

"But if you disable their ship, they will be vulnerable to attack," came Tuvok's logic.

"Yes," Janeway countered, "but I'm not going to do any permanent damage, and presumably, within the boundaries of their territory, they are fairly safe. The goal is to prevent them from chasing after us while we escape. By the time their next enemy arrives, they should have repaired their ship. Now, I will see you all back in this room in," she checked the chronometer, "half an hour. Dismissed."

Reluctantly, they filed out, until only Chakotay remained, looking rather irate.

"I don't like it," he stated bluntly.

She blinked. "I know you don't, but you don't get a choice."

He frowned. "Can't you send someone else? Isn't there another way of getting onto that ship?"

"There might be," she acknowledged, "but I don't know it, and we've run out of time. As for sending someone else … that would leave me in command of this ship, and I can no more abandon the Prime Directive than B'Elanna can abandon her temper. It has to be you in command. It's the only way."

He was visibly unsatisfied. Deciding a more personal approach was necessary, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this," she stated simply.

Suddenly, he took her hand and lowered it to a position in front of him, stepping back slightly to examine it. "You're trembling," he observed.

She looked up at him while she searched frantically for an excuse. Luckily, he provided one for her.

He raised a hand to her cheek. "Are you … frightened?" he asked incredulously.

"Maybe a little," she whispered. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His arm moved to encircle her shoulders, and she allowed his embrace. With her head on his chest, she felt better than she had all day. If she didn't survive, she was glad to have the recent memory of his hug to take with her to the grave.

* * *

_The alien ship was an assault on the eyes and the olfactory senses, yet inside it was the promised treasure he had yet to obtain for the good of his people and the pleasure of his queen. The aliens themselves were disgusting creatures – externally, at least – but, if they resembled on the inside other species which they resembled on the outside, they would prove quite delectable treats when properly cured. His orifice trembled and emitted small amounts of digestive juices at the thought of tasting one of them._

_The second visit was less arduous than the first, as he expected the negotiations to be easier. The alien leader was sure to be close to death, if not dead already, assuming the venom had been successfully delivered. If it had not, he need only stall and make another attempt. He would not return to his mother empty-handed; as it was, his young assistant's life was forfeit – a token of good faith to the aliens' second-in-command as punishment for attempting to steal the technology he hoped would now be freely given in return for their freedom._

_And if they refused, a feast was in store for all of his comrades. He marveled again at his own ingenuity as he allowed the aliens to once again guide him towards their conference room. He regretted only the necessary presence of the tinkerer, whose expertise could be the sole foil to his glory. He hoped that the credit for the plan would be his, even if the aliens' technology required the tinkerer's assistance to implement._

_He repeated his demands, noting the odd pallor of the alien leader. Despite its color, it was as adamant as ever, and he fought to control his frustration, praying that it would succumb soon, for he was running out of patience._

_At last, it collapsed, and the dark one knelt beside it and pronounced it dead. He rejoiced at the fortuity of the event, though outwardly, he showed no emotion, waiting to see whether the reaction from the second-in-command would meet his expectations._

_The tall second-in-command also knelt by its former leader, then looked up and requested some time to prepare a burial. To his delight, the body was to be released, in tact, into space. That meant that in addition to the technology, he would be able to deliver a delicacy to his own revered leader. And he and his team were invited to attend the ceremony._

_She would be very pleased with him indeed._


	5. Implementation

The first thing of which Kathryn became aware was that she was very, very cold. It occurred to her that extensive contact with the metallic floor upon which she lay was not aiding her body's efforts to adjust its temperature, so she struggled to sit up. Her stiff muscles protested, and she reached out an arm toward the nearest object for leverage.

The texture she encountered was unfamiliar, and instinctively, she looked over to observe what she'd grabbed.

She bit her lip in an effort not to scream as she belatedly realized it was a body – specifically, the body of one of the aliens, minus its head. If she were correct, this was where the food got stored before consumption …

That _would_ explain why she was so cold. This must be some sort of refrigeration chamber – and, she realized, the presence of one of their own would seem to suggest that they were cannibalistic. She gulped, attempting to stifle her automatic revulsion at the concept.

Why was her mind so slow? She blinked, attempting to focus. Surveying her surroundings, she attempted to locate an exit, lest she too become as headless as the body next to her when the aliens returned to retrieve their meal.

_Come on, Kathryn. Get up, off the floor. Stand up. That's it. Your legs will hold you …_

Shakily, she stood and began to carefully walk around the edges of the room, her hands against the wall for two purposes – first, for the support, as without it, she knew she would shortly be on her knees, and second, so that she might immediately know if she had found an egress.

At last, she saw what appeared to be a door, but could not open it. She willed her muddled mind to attack the problem logically, although her foremost urge was to curl up on the floor and go back to sleep, imagining the enveloping warmth of Chakotay's arms as he cradled her before placing her in that box …

_Focus, Kathryn. You're never going to see Chakotay again if you don't get out of here. This appears to be some sort of biometric lock; the body …_

She approached the gruesome pile once again and gingerly broke off a piece of one of the limbs. As she'd expected, it was brittle, but when the piece detached into her hand, a small bit of vile white liquid squirted out onto her, and she wrestled the sudden urge to retch at the sight. Bringing it back to the door, she waved it over various panels, hoping that one would identify the body and open the door.

Finally, she detected a soft clicking noise, and she pushed again at the door, finding it opened easily. _Apparently the dead crewmember hasn't been removed from the duty roster._ Cautiously, she stuck her head through the opening and scouted for guards.

Finding none – _why would anyone guard a refrigerator?_ – she tiptoed out and began to wander quietly, searching for a wall panel or any other source that might be able to tell her where exactly on the ship she was.

She'd memorized the schematics, but without a starting location, she'd never find the engine room …

The rest of the ship was not much warmer than the chamber in which she had originally found herself, but it was warm enough that she began to shiver, and she made no attempt to repress the involuntary shudders, as she knew she needed them to stay alive.

Occasionally, one of the aliens would pass, and she would duck into the nearest dark corner. Each time, she managed to elude them, but with every close encounter came a growing sense that her time was running out – in more ways than one. She wished she had brought some water …

Finally, she found what appeared to be a map, and located herself in the bowels of the ship. Thankfully, she had only about half a kilometer's worth of shafts to traverse on the way to her final destination. She located a wall panel, and, again using the dead alien's limb, watched it pop open. Ducking inside, she replaced the panel and began to climb.

It wasn't a long journey, but several times she had to stop, taking deep breaths, as her head was spinning and she feared she might faint – and fall to her death. And it wouldn't be fake this time …

The thought of perishing alone on the alien ship was enough to spur her onward even as her ailing body protested. At last, her perseverance was rewarded and she found herself in the fabled engine room from which, if she had studied correctly, she would be able to disable the main computer.

The only obstacle: two alien guards, looking particularly menacing.

Before she could disable the ship, she was going to have to disable _them_. And she didn't even have a weapon … she couldn't risk bringing one along, for fear the aliens would confiscate it and discover the ruse …

_Why would anyone arm a corpse? Sounds like a Klingon thing to do – make sure they are defended in the afterlife. Except the Klingons believe the dead body is just a shell. Arming the soul would be more an ancient Egyptian thing, perhaps …_

Kathryn forcefully snapped herself back to reality, but her mind instantly wandered again. An image suddenly came to her of a historical advertisement for spray-cans of bug repellant, and she bit down on her tongue to suppress the giggle that threatened to escape as she imagined a generous squirt causing the guards to collapse and roll onto their backs, their numerous legs poking awkwardly into the air.

 _Oh my, I'm delirious_ , she realized with muted alarm, then thought again of her current predicament. _Kathryn Janeway has gotten out of much more difficult situations. You can figure this out._

Instantly, she knew what to do. The answer was in her left hand, in the form of the macabre object she held …

* * *

_She was beautiful when she was furious. Absolutely lovely, and entirely menacing. Her grace betrayed none of the ferocity he knew her to be capable of when thus provoked._

_He was afraid for his life, and it excited him. He bowed down in deference before her, awaiting her instructions._

" _You will accompany me to the chamber from which the theft took place," she ordered._

_Moments later, they stood side by side at the scene of the crime. The very fact that she had insisted upon participating in the investigation signaled that she had lost her faith in his abilities, and inside, he withered at the realization._

_She crouched down – had he ever seen her crouch before? – and examined the body that still remained in the corner of the room._

" _Why has this not yet been consumed?" she asked._

_He was quick to reply in an effort to conserve whatever cycles he had left to live. "We were waiting for the end of the negotiations," he replied calmly. "This and the other were to be a feast of celebration."_

_She gave a gesture of casual dismissal. "Someone has snacked," she observed, lifting a partially-severed limb to demonstrate._

_He recoiled slightly at the accusation – nobody stole from HIS pantry! – but acknowledged that, indeed, her observation was correct._

" _I shall make sure that the responsible party is located and brought to you immediately," he promised, hoping that she would not see that the failure was indeed his and punish him accordingly._

* * *

As quietly as possible, Kathryn crept towards the first guard, keeping low to the ground and in the shadows. She approached it from beneath, and when she was nearly directly under it, she reached up with the sharp point of the limb and stabbed it in the belly…

It screeched and fell, a weapon of some sort clattering to the ground at its side, and the other one instantly turned to investigate the noise.

Kathryn was ready, however, and had already retrieved the weapon, hoping she knew how to use it. She aimed … and fired.

The second guard collapsed. She breathed a sigh of relief.

But no doubt, the scuffle had been detected and others would arrive at any moment. She ran into the alcove where the mainframe was stored, located the target of her mission, and began to work as efficiently as possible.

Only once did she lose concentration, when the sound of dripping water roused her … _had they detected her so quickly?_ She poised to escape, but happened to glance down and realize that she herself was the source of the noise – she'd lost control of her bladder, which apparently wasn't aware of her dehydration –

Furiously blinking back tears in an effort not to drain any more of her bodily fluids, she resolved to ignore the shame and fear and continue her task.

When she was sure that all the necessary circuitry had been rewired, she tapped her communicator and ordered a transport to her quarters. _I'd better get cleaned up before I face my crew_. If she'd been successful, the shields would be down and the transport would work; otherwise –

She felt the familiar tingle of the transporter and breathed a sigh of relief as she materialized, overwhelming fatigue settling upon her like a thick fog as she relaxed into the relative warmth of the climate-controlled air. She began to make her way towards the bathroom, but to her dismay, her legs collapsed beneath her. Her arms reached out automatically to brace against something – anything – that would allow her to remain upright, but they met only the open air, and a moment later, she found herself sprawled awkwardly on her living room floor.

Her heart pounded and her stomach lurched as she realized that rising again was beyond her current capabilities …

It occurred to her that there was something that needed doing before anything else, something that luckily could be done from where she lay. She tapped her communicator once more, requesting a secure comm link.

"Janeway to bridge," she called, using the last bit of energy reserved within her to keep her voice steady and commanding. "The mission was a success. As soon as our guests have departed, get us out of here, maximum warp."

"Aye, Captain. The aliens have just left," answered Tom Paris. He then added, "It's good to hear your voice."

Despite her pain – despite everything – she smiled. "And yours, Lieutenant." Then the upturned corners of her mouth fell again, the slight glow fading from her face as fast as it had appeared, as she realized that this could have been the last time they would hear each other speak …

At that thought, she felt bile once again rise in her esophagus and, lacking the energy even to lift her head off the floor, she rolled onto her side and allowed the warm, acrid liquid to flow effortlessly onto the carpet. She stared in odd fascination at the shape it formed as it oozed out of her mouth.

 _It won't be long now_ , was the quiet warning in her head as her eyelids drooped uncontrollably. Knowing that her crew, at least, would be safe in a matter of moments, Kathryn Janeway allowed herself to close her eyes. _I only need a minute. After I've rested a bit, I'll get up and resume my duties …_

* * *

_If she was angry before, she was irate now. Her usually calm and collected demeanor was tense and threatening as she tailed him through the tour of the engine room, where the intruder alarm had sounded._

_One of her guards was dead, the missing limb stuck into his underbelly … the other had been stunned, but had recovered, now standing at attention, albeit looking slightly groggy._

_She entered the inner chamber, and her olfactory organs immediately twitched at the unfamiliar stench. "What is that smell?" she asked, her voice dripping with accusation._

_Her companion looked baffled. "I …"_

_It was then that he noticed a small, yellowish puddle on the floor and extracted his instrument to examine it, surmising that it was the source of the odor. She looked on disapprovingly, but allowed him to work unfettered by further admonishment._

" _The DNA in the sample belongs to one of the aliens," he remarked, astonished._

_She fixed him with an impenetrable gaze. "I can think of two possibilities," she prompted, as if expecting him to immediately surmise what she had already concluded._

_He stared blankly at her, and she gestured again with disappointment in her underling before supplying the answer._

" _First, the intruder was also the thief, and took the body with him, dropping some of it along the way."_

_He looked unconvinced. "I agree; it is unlikely. But the other possibility is that our corpse was not as dead as we were led to believe."_

_Just then a communiqué sounded. "The alien ship has departed," someone informed her._

" _Chase them!" she ordered immediately._

" _We can't … engines are down," the voice responded._

" _Then fire!" she tried. "Make sure they don't get away!"_

" _Many apologies," she heard. "Weapons, too, have been disabled. With all due respect, we are lucky they did not fire on us before making their escape."_

_She turned to her companion. It occurred to him that if it were possible for a body to spontaneously combust, she would have done so. As it was, he crouched as low as he could onto the floor, heedless of the pungent fluid soiling his leg-hairs …_

* * *

Chakotay was glad to be finally rid of the aliens, at least for the moment. As he made his way back to the bridge, he fought the inner feeling of filth brought on by the entire charade. He'd stalled them as much as possible; they'd returned to their vessel to consider his offer and, presumably, formulate a counteroffer of their own. But he sincerely hoped he would not have to resort to the distribution of faulty technology in order to escape from these detestable creatures …

It wasn't fair, he knew. Kathryn would have wanted – he nearly shuddered at his instinct to think of her as deceased – Kathryn would want him to respect them, to give them the benefit of the doubt – but from his dealings with them so far, he couldn't help but simply despise them. It didn't help that they'd made him go through a funeral for the captain – though it was a ruse, it was still one of the most unsettling experiences he'd ever had, especially after his recent experience with her after he crashed that shuttle …

Images from the strenuous day streamed through his mind. Most of them were of Kathryn. Kathryn on the couch in her quarters, waking at his touch. Kathryn, negotiating with the aliens. Kathryn in his arms as he placed her in the coffin … she'd been so pale and limp, looking almost sickly.

He paused in his tracks.

_Sickly … Kathryn … oh Gods …_

Suddenly it all came together. Why the aliens were not surprised at her "death," how realistically she had fainted, her hurry to carry out the plan without examination of an alternative … they'd done something to her. He was sure of it. And now she was alone on that alien ship … would she survive? Or was his subconscious urge to refer to her in the past tense a forewarning of what was to come?

He nearly screamed her name at the thought, but suppressed the urge, remembering that he was not alone. As the turbolift doors opened, he forced himself to remain calm as he walked out onto the bridge, tailed by the Vulcan security chief, who thankfully had been – apparently – lost in thought himself, and thus had not noticed – or at least, hadn't given any indication of noticing – the commander's unease.

_Vulcans, too, can be discomfited under extreme circumstances._

Lieutenant Paris stood to relinquish the bridge to his commanding officer. Only then did Chakotay notice the moving starfield on the viewscreen.

Before Paris could take more than a few steps towards his usual station, Chakotay spoke, forcing the helmsman to turn around. "Lieutenant," the commander asked, "what is our current heading?"

"Eight six three mark one four," answered Paris. "The captain ordered us to – "

"Wait," Chakotay interrupted. "The captain is back on board?"

Paris looked puzzled. "I thought you knew," he answered. "She commed to say – "

Again, Paris was cut off, this time when Chakotay ordered the computer to locate Captain Janeway. Tom shut his mouth, but remained standing, frozen, awkwardly awaiting further instructions before deciding in what direction to move.

"Captain Janeway is in her quarters," the computer responded calmly.

Chakotay tapped his comm. "Chakotay to Janeway," he called.

There was no response.

He looked at Paris, then turned to Tuvok, then returned his gaze to the helmsman. "There's something wrong," he whispered to no one in particular.

Acute Vulcan ears picked it up, prompting the owner of the ears to respond. "I concur," he stated. "I believe – "

Chakotay suspected the Vulcan had come to the same conclusion he had – he must have been thinking about _something_ in that turbolift – but he didn't have time for debate.

"I'm going to find her," he stated. "Tuvok, you have the bridge."

Finally, Paris returned to his station. But he, too, was worried now; Chakotay had paled as if he'd seen a ghost. The captain had sounded fine when she gave the orders a few minutes ago, but he had to admit, her lack of appearance on the bridge was suspicious …


	6. Twilight

Chakotay could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat as he spotted Kathryn unmoving on the floor of her living quarters. He wasn't aware of the motion of his legs, but in the next moment, he was kneeling at her side, his hand on her shoulder. When he saw her move slightly, he breathed an instant sigh of relief. _She's alive_.

Then he noticed she'd been sick – was still sick. He lifted her slightly off the ground, one arm supporting her torso, and turned her towards the floor so that her mouth would drain. She blinked groggily, spitting a small bit of bile out onto the floor. Then she convulsed slightly in his arms, weakly expelling a bit more.

He stroked her hair, not knowing what else he could do other than hold her, not even sure if she realized who was doing the holding. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as she spat onto the carpet.

After a few seconds, when he was sure she was done, he gathered her towards him, allowing her to rest against his chest, his arms still protectively encircling her. "I'm going to take you to Sickbay," he told her, hoping she was aware enough to understand.

She tensed immediately, the prospect of Sickbay suddenly terrifying. She was sure, somehow, that if the Doctor had her there, he would euthanize her like he had in her hallucination …

"No," she whispered, so softly that he wasn't, at first, sure that she had spoken at all. But then she continued, "Please don't. Doc can't do anything."

Chakotay felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. _She knows something_.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. She didn't provide one.

Suddenly, everything she'd been through in the last few hours seemed to engulf her, leaving her drowning as if tipped overboard into a stormy sea. She was mortified at the state in which she was being seen by, of all people, her first officer, who needed to respect her in order for their command relationship to function …

 _You may not get another chance to command him_ , she realized. It was then that she became aware of the tenderness with which he held her – even after she'd rebuffed him, after she'd driven him away, he still cared – and the acknowledgement of his affection for her sent her over the edge. Feeling herself losing control of her emotions, she attempted to pull away, but his tight embrace trapped her, and she found herself withering in his arms.

As a strange sound escaped from her lips, he realized belatedly that she was crying. Dumbstruck, he turned her around again so she was facing him, and she buried her face in his chest and quietly sobbed. All he could do was to wrap himself around her while he desperately attempted to keep his own emotions in check, to be strong for her. He'd never seen this level of weakness from her and it frightened him more than he could ever have imagined. He stroked her back with a shaking hand and whispered to her that everything was going to be okay – even though he had no idea whether it was – and suspected his comforting words might prove to be lies.

It didn't take long before she quieted. She realized as soon as it began that crying would only be another drain on her already sapped fluids, and that it would likely eat significant time out of her remaining life. Still, it took a moment to compose herself – and admittedly, when she did regain her poise – as much as was possible in her current condition – she felt slightly better for having been able to externalize her emotions, albeit briefly.

Finally, she felt capable of speaking again, and decided what she wanted to do. She lifted her head off his chest and looked at him, suddenly finding strength where there had been none before. It occurred to her that his embrace had lent her energy ... after all, just the memory of his warm arms around her had supported her through her mission …

"Please," she begged, swallowing the shame at even having to ask this much, "help me to the bathroom. I need to clean up."

He was confused for a moment, but upon surveying her state, realized to what she referred. He gulped, wondering what hell she had been through in the past few hours to leave her like this.

"Please," she begged again, and he realized he hadn't answered.

"Of course," he replied quickly, then carefully stood, bringing her up with him. Leaning heavily against him, feeling his arm firmly around her waist, she managed to traverse the short distance on her own two feet.

He didn't want to let go, but he understood her need for privacy.

As she disappeared around the corner, he called to her. "I'll be right here," he promised. "Yell if you need anything."

Surprisingly, she found herself amused by the offer. _I couldn't yell if I wanted to right now_. It then occurred to her that she was going to need something to change into … _my, I'm slow tonight_.

"Chakotay," she responded, "can you grab me something fresh to wear?"

 _Of course; why didn't I think of that?_ "Yes. I'll be back in a moment," he answered.

While she struggled to draw herself a bath – there was no way she was going to be able to stand in the shower, and the thought of the warm water soothing her aching muscles was appealing anyway – he went to her bedroom and opened her drawers.

As he touched her underwear, the image of her wearing it – and nothing but it – appeared unbidden in his mind, and he struggled to suppress the lust rising within him. _Stop it_ , he ordered himself. _This is no time to fantasize. Get the item and get back there – she could drown in the bath while you're busy daydreaming …_

She relaxed into the warm water, using the sponge to wipe away the stickiness on her legs and the grime that covered her whole body. Focused on her task, she didn't notice how much it hurt just to move.

He selected a comfortable-looking silk pajama set for her, then turned around to return to his spot just outside the bathroom. His eyes fell upon the bed, barren of sheets, and he gulped again, wondering what had transpired to cause her to remove them and not replace them. It occurred to him that she might have been sick before, and a cold feeling of guilt began to trickle into his stomach. _How long has she been dealing with this on her own? Why didn't I see? Why didn't I help? Spirits, I sent her on a dangerous mission while she was ill … I placed her in that coffin myself … how could I not have known? I shouldn't have let her go …_

Finally, Kathryn felt clean enough to be presentable – whatever "presentable" meant for a soon-to-be corpse. She almost laughed aloud at herself for her irrational need to die neatly, but another concern soon invaded her fluttering mind. _Getting out of the tub is going to be even more difficult than getting in_ , she realized belatedly. After a few moments, she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to be able to do it on her own.

"Chakotay," she called, as loudly as she could muster.

He didn't respond. Tears threatened again as she realized he'd left her alone, and she was going to die, naked in the bath … _oh God_. A warring sensation of mirth, however, took hold, and she began to giggle. _It could be worse …_

Chakotay shook himself out of his reverie and hurried back. When he arrived, he heard an odd noise. Was Kathryn laughing?! "Kathryn," he called, "are you all right?" _Of course she's not all right. There's something so wrong that she couldn't even tell you what it was before dissolving into tears –_ tears! _Something that caused her to be sick, something that caused her to …_ Suddenly he knew why there were no sheets on the bed, and he wanted to scream. He clamped a hand over his mouth, causing only a choked cry to escape before he was interrupted by the sound of her voice.

"Chakotay," she mumbled. "I thought you'd left."

_Never, my woman warrior. I will never leave your side …_

"I brought you some clothes," he replied lamely. "Sorry, I was in the other room and didn't hear you call. Here, I'll reach around and put the clothes just inside for you, okay?"

"I can't …" she admitted, "I can't get out of the bath. I'm going to …" She swallowed her mortification at again having to impose such intimacy upon him. "I'm going to need you to help me."

 _Spirits, why do you test me so?_ While he didn't relish having to repress his desire and aid his naked captain without staring, he'd known for some time that he would do anything for her. _Including not taking her to Sickbay, just because she asked,_ he admonished silently.

Immediately, he was at her side, rolling up his sleeves and attempting to avert his eyes as much as possible. He knew she was uncomfortable enough as it was, and he didn't want to add any pain. Looking past her, he reached into the bath and lifted her out of it, depositing her gently onto the rug. He scrambled around to locate a towel, then nearly threw it on top of her. She gratefully wrapped it around herself, shivering as the water began to evaporate from her skin.

It was then he remembered the pile of clothes. He picked it up and placed it next to her.

They shared an awkward moment of silence as he wondered whether to offer to help her change into the pajamas, or whether he was better off leaving the room as quickly as possible to afford her some privacy.

He decided upon the latter, but needed an excuse to leave her again. "You have no bedclothes," he observed tentatively.

She paled, not knowing how to respond. _Of course he noticed_.

Observing her discomfort, he continued hurriedly. "I'll go make the bed for you, if you're okay for the moment."

She breathed a sigh of relief at his obvious desire to let her change on her own, but was simultaneously appalled to ask him for what amounted to maid service. _He's probably going to offer to clean up my vomit, too,_ she realized with horror.

"You don't need to," she tried. "You've been a big help already. If I can just get to the couch, after I dress …"

Despite himself, he smiled. "Kathryn," he started, but paused, realizing that his use of her first name could be uncomfortable for her right now, as it would remind her that he now knew her more intimately than she would have wanted had the circumstances not necessitated it. He mentally smacked himself for his slip, but upon further reflection, realized that "Captain" would be equally awkward at the moment, as it would suggest same thing via the stark contrast between formality and …

"Yes, Chakotay?" she prompted, noticing his hesitation, and feeling a wash of emotions related to the observation. She was amused to see him bashful, like a schoolboy with a crush – which reminded her that he had, in fact, admitted somewhat of a crush on her not so long ago, on New Earth – and she found herself inexplicably relieved that he still felt enough attraction to be shy around her – but she also found herself dismayed by the whole situation; after all, she was an engaged woman … who had just asked him to aid her in getting her naked body out of the water … and he couldn't possibly be aroused by that, could he? After all, she'd just thrown up all over the floor in front of him, and …

"It's no trouble," he finally replied. "I'll be right back."

Concentrating on moving her limbs, she managed to get the pajamas on, then, still cold from the endothermic process of evaporation and, no doubt, from fever and the lingering effects of her prolonged exposure to the frigid air on the alien ship, she again wrapped the towel around herself and waited for him to return. Her eyelids drooped, and she found herself tipping over to lie curled up on her side. Finally, warmth began to permeate her entire body, and she was overwhelmed by a sensation of floating, as if the gravity generators had gone offline. _Is this what it feels like to die?_ she wondered distantly as she faded into unconsciousness.

When Chakotay returned, he again rushed to her side, a flashback of the scene not twenty minutes earlier assaulting his eyes. She'd wrapped herself in the towel as if it were a blanket. _I took too long …_

He placed his hands on her shoulders and felt the slight movement of her deep breathing, and again reveled in the relief of her survival. _She's fallen asleep … I'd better wake her_.

Gently, he shook her, calling her name, but she didn't wake up. His utterances grew more urgent, the chant of "Kathryn" becoming a mantra as he begged her to open her eyes and was met with no response.

Tears now streaming down his cheeks, he gathered her to him again and made a firm decision, tapping his communicator. "Chakotay to Sickbay," he choked out. "Medical emergency! It's the captain; she's sick; she won't wake up …"

* * *

_It was becoming increasingly clear that the plan was not going to be successful. Rather than focusing upon repairing the ship, she was interrogating – and executing – suspects, one by one._

_It was also clear that he was not far down on the list, and in an effort to preserve his own life, he abandoned hope of returning to the engine room to take control of the ship while it was vulnerable – after all, most of the guards were there, and would capture him immediately upon his arrival. He had hoped she would ask him to begin repairs, but apparently she had more_ pressing _concerns …_

_It disgusted him. Even though he disapproved of eating his fellows, he knew that when a slaughter of this magnitude occurred, much of the meat would go to waste, and that offended his sensibilities even more. But she was more interested in asserting her power – by whatever means proved most effective at preserving it – than in caring for her ship, maintaining efficiency, and conserving resources … it was another reason she could not be allowed to remain in control much longer, and he vowed, even as he planned his escape, to return, somehow, to finish the job he had started._

_Quietly, he snuck through the ship, being careful to evade the guards, which were thankfully few and far between due to their concentration in the engine room and interrogation chambers._

_Finally, he arrived at the escape pod, commandeered it, and quickly uploaded the program to mask it from the sensors, should they be repaired before he could get far enough away – though with her current strategy, he didn't think it likely he would be in danger of being detected anytime soon._

_As he watched the ship grow smaller in the window, he allowed himself to bask in the joy that, at least, his faith in the aliens had not been misplaced: he had not overestimated their technical expertise. Her reign was nearing an end, for his compatriot tinkerers would soon find a way to oust her, even if he were unsuccessful …_

* * *

The Doctor eyed his guest with concern. "Commander," he admonished, "please stop pacing, lest you wear out my floor. I rather enjoy my carpet!"

Chakotay's only answer was to glare menacingly at the hologram as he continued his motion.

The EMH sighed and returned to running various instruments over the captain, who lay pale and motionless on the biobed, the only indication of her continued survival the steady flashing of lights on the monitor panel indicating her heartbeat and respiration.

Finally, the Doctor stilled, snapping a tricorder shut in his hand. He looked up grimly.

Chakotay shook his head. "No," he cried softly, then repeated himself, just a bit louder. "No."

The Doctor frowned. "I'm sorry; she's in a coma. Unless I can get a pure sample of the venom with which she was infected, I will not be able to counteract its effects, and she will likely never awaken. You'd best to say your goodbyes, Commander, then begin taking over the captain's duties. I imagine you have a lot of work to do …"

The tall man was appalled by the prospect, and interrupted the Doctor before he could continue. "I won't accept that," he replied. "You say you need a pure sample? Well, then, we'll just have to return to their space and get one."

The hologram was nonplussed. "Are you sure that is wise, Commander? After all, she just got us _out_ of their space, and it's doubtful a similar ruse would work again. I can't imagine it is what she would want."

"Doctor," he replied firmly, " _I_ am now in command of this vessel, and you will do as I order. Just keep her alive, and let me handle the rest. She can throw me in the brig when she has recovered."

With that, he stormed out of Sickbay and headed directly to the bridge.

"If the brig still exists to throw you in," the Doctor muttered to himself as he watched the commander exit.


	7. Darkness

Chakotay heard something dripping as he sat in the captain's chair – _her_ chair – and tried his best not to expend effort worrying. He found himself expecting that at any moment the EMH would call and tell him to turn back – that it was too late to help the captain. He shuddered at the thought of having to plan another funeral – a real one this time. But as he'd told the hologram, he wasn't just going to let her die. If there were anything he could do – no matter how risky – to increase her chances of survival, he would consider no other option.

He knew she would tell him not to place so much value upon her own life – to save the ship first – but he also knew that the crew would not deal well with the loss of its captain – _he_ would not deal well with the loss of his captain, and could not, therefore, be of much service to a grieving crew. He justified his efforts with the thought that she herself had certainly taken risks to save others – she'd sacrificed an easy trip home to save the Ocampa from the Kazon before he was even an officer on _Voyager_ , and had willingly walked straight into a trap in order to save the life a traitor and the child they'd thought was his son. So, for her sake, and for the emotional well-being of the crew, he'd do what he could to save her life. He had a feeling that, without its captain, _Voyager_ would never make it home. At least, that was what he told himself in an effort to convince his conscience that he wasn't just being selfish … saving her because _he_ needed her.

Confirming his justification, however, was the fact that it had only taken one statement to deflect the crew's objections to returning to the aliens' space.

" _Reverse course," commanded Chakotay as soon as he returned to the bridge. "We're going back in."_

" _Commander?" queried Tom Paris. "Does that order come from Captain Janeway?"_

_Chakotay frowned. "No," he answered. "Captain Janeway is currently incapacitated. I am in command now, and will be taking that position permanently unless we go back. Now, Lieutenant, if you please …"_

_At that, Paris gulped before replying. "Aye aye, Sir," he responded solemnly, then turned and followed the order …_

After a moment, Chakotay realized that not only could he hear the soft noise, but he could see the tiny droplets landing on the console. He looked up, half expecting to see a leak in the ceiling, but when his risen eyes met those of a very concerned Vulcan, he realized that the moisture in question was in fact originating from his own tear ducts.

He wanted to scream. Rising, he slapped the console hard with his hand, and was suitably annoyed at the torrent of beeps that resulted from the computer's lack of understanding of what it believed was intended as a coherent command. Several crewmen looked up briefly at the disturbance, but quickly turned back to their own consoles at the sight of the irate commander.

Chakotay was about to cede the bridge to the Vulcan and proceed to the ready room – where he would be free to weep openly and perhaps throw some random objects around – hopefully not breaking any of the captain's treasured possessions – when Tuvok spoke.

"Commander, we are receiving a distress call," he spoke evenly. There was no hint in his tone of the worry that had momentarily flickered across his noble features just beforehand; his statement was informative, nothing more. "It seems to be an automated beacon," he continued, "but the triangulation of its origin reveals no matter at that location."

Instantly, Chakotay was caught in the curiosity presented.

* * *

_The tinkerer was deathly cold. It seemed that the vacuum of space was quickly seeping into the pod, though he knew the hull to be sealed perfectly; after all, he had personally inspected it when the ship was first launched …_

_Nevertheless, an icy chill made its way into the air surrounding him, through his frail exoskeleton, and directly into his internal organs, where it threatened to freeze his very core. He imagined someone finding his body in that state as he felt himself drifting away from reality. It didn't help that he hadn't eaten anything in forty cycles, and the escape pod was not stocked with those sorts of supplies – in truth, nobody was expected to survive for long inside them; if a rescue were not already in progress at the time the pod was launched, chances were that the journey to find and locate it would yield more profitable results in the recovery of the device than of the body – alive or dead – contained within its walls._

_For a moment, he wished he hadn't scrupulously avoided the last meal provided to him – it had been another alien species that had naïvely attempted to initiate a trade with his people. Deeming the aliens' knowledge and technology worthless, she hadn't even bothered to interrogate them before seizing their ship, executing the entire lot, and providing the bodies as a feast to her crew._

_At the moment, he was hungry enough to eat his own children, if he'd ever had any. He'd always been focused on other things – his research, his duties, his secret scheming to provide a better future – but for whom? If he were to die in this escape pod, it would not be his descendants who would benefit from his sacrifice. Suddenly, he wished he had taken the time to initiate a procreation rite, just so that he would have some eggs of his own on which to bequeath his legacy. He consoled himself with the thought that perhaps, by some miracle, he would be rescued, though the prospect was growing dimmer with each passing octocycle. He wondered whether she had concluded her rampage and begun to repair the ship yet, and mulled whether or not to unhide himself in hopes that they would allow him a chance at preserving his life, should they prove to be his only hope._

_Through the haze of his fading consciousness, his eyes detected an anomaly in the starfield on his small viewscreen – his only connection to the outside world, as the pod afforded little space for anything else. The instruments announced that a ship approached. But it wasn't the mother ship …_

_In an instant, he recognized the signature. The aliens had returned! But for what purpose?_

_He supposed it didn't matter. In any plausible circumstance, the aliens were more likely than his own people to help him, and it seemed quite improbable that there were any other options._

_Quickly, he initiated a distress call, once again putting his faith into the goodwill of this relatively-unknown alien species. They hadn't, after all, failed him yet. Perhaps they would allow him to join them – could it be that they could use a tinkerer? Didn't everyone need tinkerers? Although he considered it unlikely he could learn much from their relatively primitive technologies, he might be provided with resources with which he could expand his own mind through productive research, unhindered by the demands of a capricious ruler …_

_Although the temperature in the cramped cabin had not changed, he felt warmed when he received their answer. There was no video screen capability, but he heard the hail on audio._

" _Unknown ship: we have received your distress call, but we cannot locate you. Please transmit your coordinates."_

_He cursed himself for his oversight and immediately disengaged the masking device, then sent his relative location to the alien ship._

_For the first time in his entire life, he genuinely believed that things would turn out all right. He was about to be rescued, and the aliens would help him to return home, if not to finish the job he had started and place a new government in control – one that would value sentience and knowledge above power and victory. And perhaps, once his life's goal was complete, and there was a better world to look forward to, he could find a female with which to create offspring to inherit that world …_

_The pod jerked, and he realized it had been caught in a tractor beam. As the alien ship pulled him into its belly, he anticipated the warmth of the alien atmosphere and reveled in his good fortune._

* * *

With much trepidation, Chakotay again left Tom Paris in charge of the bridge while he took Tuvok to the shuttle bay to greet their guest. Since the pod had not been in danger of exploding, the alien's life signs were strong, and they did not wish to give evidence of their transporter technology, they'd opted to tractor the pod inside rather than beaming its occupant on board.

Lieutenant Paris appeared positively relieved when the commander announced he was leaving the bridge, and the expression was not lost on his commanding officer. Chakotay felt a weight settling in his midsection at the weakness he had shown in front of the crew – _her_ crew – thus hinting to them the dire nature of her condition. He was sure she would not appreciate his lack of discretion if she found out. _That is, if she survives to hear about it …_

Also nagging at his over-burdened mind was the suspicion that this was a trap. When the alien had transmitted its coordinates, he'd momentarily hesitated, asking himself what _she_ would do. He decided that she would be willing to give the alien the benefit of the doubt, and thus, so would he, especially since, if the alien were willing to provide a sample of the venom, they could avoid further interaction with the mother ship.

As he stood in the turbolift beside the Vulcan, whose features were unreadable as usual, he silently prayed that the alien in the pod would be either sympathetic or easily subdued, and not followed by a legion of others …

Inexplicably, anger rose within him. He was angry at having to second-guess himself, having to take risks, having to worry. He was angry at _her_ for not telling him she was ill, thus allowing him to send her on the mission that might very well prove to be her last.

 _No_ , he insisted to himself. _She's not going to die. This is going to work._

With that, he exchanged glances with the security chief, who curtly nodded in acknowledgment that he was armed and ready for whatever they were to encounter. Together, they exited the turbolift and proceeded into the shuttle bay, where a team of security officers was already waiting, surrounding the admittedly innocent-looking pod.

Chakotay nodded to one of them, who carefully approached the vehicle, located the hatch, and released it. The alien awkwardly crawled out, its long limbs expanding out the egress, finally followed by its torso and then head. Several officers had phasers carefully trained upon the exiting form.

"Forgive the security," announced Chakotay when the alien appeared to be fully free of its confinement, "but without knowing your intent, we must take precautions. We do not wish to harm you."

The alien bowed. "I understand," it replied. "Please, take whatever precautions you deem necessary. Thank you for my rescue. I do not understand why you have returned to our space, but I am grateful that you have, for I am cold and weak with hunger and would not have survived much longer had you not happened upon my location."

Chakotay nodded. "We will see what we can do about getting something for you to eat," he answered, "if you will tell us what kind of sustenance you require. However, I would first like to know if you are willing to provide assistance to us with a particular matter of urgency."

The alien did not hesitate. "Of course. Whatever I can do for you; I am happy to help. I only ask that in turn, you aid me in returning to my home world, where I will be safe. I will likely be executed if I return to the mother ship."

At that, Tuvok raised an eyebrow as Chakotay shot him a glance of concern.

Observing their hesitation, the alien continued. "It was I who assisted your sabotage," it admitted proudly. "I am on your side. This is why I am a wanted fugitive."

Chakotay wanted desperately to interrogate the alien as to why it would join forces with strangers against its own people, but time was of the essence, so he deferred questioning the alien further.

"Please follow me," he urged, and proceeded to lead the alien to Sickbay. The journey was short and traveled in silence, with the security team tailing closely behind, ready to stun it should the alien make any unexpected moves.

Chakotay briefly toyed with the idea of killing the alien and extracting the venom from its dead body, just to save himself the trouble of having to guess what trap lay ahead, but he knew he had to give the alien a chance to prove itself trustworthy. After all, it was not a Kazon or a Vidiian or a Cardassian. It wasn't Seska, wasn't the creature that had attempted to kill Kathryn on that planet where he'd crashed the shuttle – and even if it were any of those things, he still couldn't justify murdering it in cold blood.

It occurred to him that the recent bout of betrayals – most recently, from the woman whose life he was trying to save – was making him bitter, and he resolved to consult his spirit guide when this was all over. He shuddered to think his troubled mind was devising solutions he wouldn't even have considered when he was leading a Maquis ship.

* * *

_The tinkerer enjoyed being able to stretch his limbs and walk about the aliens' ship, even as they trained weapons upon him. In truth, they impressed him yet again, with the care with which they hosted him while still employing enough security to protect themselves should he prove dangerous. It was also difficult to feel threatened with the warmth of their artificial climate permeating his exoskeleton. His antennae twitched with pleasure as they led him through the ship._

_Their doctor greeted him. It occurred to him that something was odd about the doctor, but he couldn't tell what. The medic queried him about his alimentary preferences, to which he gladly replied, his stomach quietly expressing its approval with a secretion of digestive juices._

_Then the doctor made a strange request. It wanted a sample of his venom …_

_It seemed that the leader of this ship had not been so easily assassinated, and was clinging to life by a leg-hair. And the doctor believed it could develop an antidote for the poison._

_The tinkerer neglected to express his opinion about the feasibility of a cure for the leader's condition; the sample would certainly be easy to provide, and he had promised whatever help he could give. However, he couldn't help but feel slightly sad that the aliens still harbored hope of their leader's survival, and had returned at their own peril for such a futile – and worthless – cause._

_It occurred to him that their loyalty was similar too his own people's loyalty to the Queen, and for the first time since he had escaped from his own ship, he began to harbor doubts about their intelligence and benevolence. Perhaps they were only treating him kindly so that he would cooperate. When the treatment the doctor devised failed, they might blame him for the death and execute him – or worse, they might attempt to trade him back to the Queen in exchange for passage through their space – a trade to which She would gladly agree, then happily revoke Her promise and return them to their previous predicament._

_Throughout his difficult life, he'd expended entirely too much effort hiding technology to allow the Queen to obtain dangerous capabilities from some passing visitors now. He surmised that it was imperative to remove the threat of the mother ship at all costs, for his own and his people's benefit, and for the aliens too. As soon as he had an opportunity, he would make sure the option of trading him would not be available – without the threat of the mother ship, they should be able to pass safely out of his people's space, even after a detour to drop him off on the home world. And while technologically inferior in many ways, the aliens' ship contained many devices that could aid him in his mission, if only he could gain access …_


	8. Wake

_Even now, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Even now, knowing that his life was, most likely, in its final moments, he wanted nothing more than to spend those moments in her presence. Even though she practically radiated hostility and anger towards him._

_She flitted a digit over one of his legs, and he shivered in ecstasy. Finally, she spoke. "You have always been my favorite," she confirmed quietly, and her admission filled him with rapture. "But you have disappointed me."_

" _I understand," was his solemn reply. "I deserve to die for my failure. It has been an honor."_

_She acknowledged her assent, but made no more motion towards him. In this moment, he allowed himself to hope that perhaps his record of service – and her personal affection for him – would grant him mercy. Truly, he did not want to die, for to cease his existence would leave no more time to love her …_

" _I am curious," she prompted, "what you believe should be my next action. You have often provided useful advice, and as you might have observed, I could use some now."_

_His internal organs jittered with the promise of redemption. Perhaps this was the test, the trial that would determine his potential for survival._

_She was giving him one last chance. Perhaps his love for her was not completely unrequited. Perhaps … but was she looking for honesty, sound advice, or a confirmation of her infallible leadership?_

" _Please," she urged. "Tell me what you think."_

" _My Queen," he began, still unsure of the best tactic, but opting for honesty, "you have executed many tinkerers in the recent cycles. Our ship is still not functional. Perhaps it is time to allocate the remaining personnel to repairs. We will not find the missing traitor unless we have the aid of the ship."_

_Her antennae gyrated as she mused. Finally, she spoke again. "You will always be my favorite," she repeated. She reached towards him, caressed his face, and punctured his skull. He slumped to the floor, expired._

_Two guards came forward and lifted the body. One spoke. "Do you wish us to return the head?"_

_She motioned negatively. "I already know what was in his thoughts," she chided. "The head is of no use to me. He does not know anything."_

_The other spoke then. "Would you like us to bring you another prisoner for interrogation?"_

_Again, she gestured her refusal. "His advice was not unwise," she observed. "I believe it is time to halt the executions and focus on repairs. Supervise the remaining tinkerers closely; any evidence of conspiracy and we shall return to the interrogations."_

_They acknowledged their assent and perfunctorily carted the body away._

" _I really did like him," she muttered to herself as they disappeared. "Such a shame he had to disappoint me. Males are all so daft …"_

" _What was that?" asked a guard, and she turned angrily._

" _It was nothing," she replied. "Carry on."_

_With that, she made her way towards the command center to help supervise the repairs. She did not even trust the guards anymore …_

* * *

"Why isn't it working?" asked Kes, her eyes pleading with the Doctor.

"I don't know," he answered. "I've injected her with thrice the amount that worked in the lab for the amount of venom that is in her body. It's just … ineffective. It's almost as if her own immune system – which seems to be the only one of her systems still highly functional – is fighting the cure as hard as it is fighting the poison."

"Is there anything we can do?" Kes queried.

The Doctor frowned. "Let me run some simulations. I have some ideas, but we will have to test them."

"Can I be of assistance?" she inquired.

He shook his head. "For now, no. But please stay here; I might require your help at any moment."

Solemnly, she nodded, and as he disappeared into his office, she sat beside the biobed and took the captain's hand in her own.

"Captain," she spoke quietly, as a tear meandered down her cheek, "the crew is worried about you. Chakotay was here before, nearly passing out from exhaustion. We knew you'd want him to rest, so the Doctor threatened to sedate him if he didn't go to his quarters. He wanted to be with you – I think his feelings for you …"

Her voice trailed off as she contemplated her words. Sobbing slightly, she began anew. "Please fight it, Captain. We need you; he needs you. You don't know how hard it was, when we didn't have either of you. We wouldn't have engaged the Vidiians if it hadn't meant so much to us to get you back. Tuvok's a good leader, but he's not you. And Chakotay – I don't know if he can manage without you – he'll miss you so much. We'll all miss you so much. Please, Captain, come back to us."

With that, she began to cry in earnest. All the times she could remember being this upset, the captain had been there to hold her as her own mother had done when she was small. But the captain didn't wake up now, didn't sit and take Kes into her arms as she had so many times before. The realization that perhaps the captain would never hug her again washed over her, calling forth a fresh bout of bitter tears.

* * *

_Only the flashes of lightning and the emergency lights penetrated the darkness as Chakotay woozily lifted his head from the console._

_He'd crashed … but he was alive. Perhaps a bit worse for wear, as everything ached, but he was conscious, and for that he thanked the spirits. There was, however, something else, some pressing matter with which he had to deal. He frantically searched his mind for the answer._

_Eventually, it was supplied._ I am not alone.

_But who was with him, and where was his companion? He wracked his brain for an answer, finally realizing it was the captain he sought._

_He forced himself to rise from the chair, distantly aware of the warning klaxons sounding from the shuttle's computer._

" _Warning, hydrozene gas levels at ten parts per million. Begin evacuation procedures."_

" _In a moment," he answered the computer, as if it would acknowledge his plight and allow him a few extra minutes somehow. "After I find Kathryn."_

_As lightning continued to briefly illuminate the cabin at irregular intervals, he began searching around, but found himself alone._

_He called her name, but his only reply was from the shuttle itself._

" _Warning, hydrozene gas levels at eleven parts per million. Begin evacuation procedures."_

" _No!" he cried out. "She's here! Kathryn, where are you?"_

_Just then, he nearly tripped on an obstruction on the floor. Cursing, he looked down, and found himself gazing upon the very body he had been seeking._

" _No," he whispered to himself. Then, he knelt beside her. "Kathryn?" he called, praying she would answer._

_She groaned softly. He breathed a sigh of relief._

" _We need to get out of here," he told her._

_She moaned, but made no movement. Lightning flashed, shedding an eerie light that made her appear pale and ghostly. He reached forward and took her in his arms, and with difficulty, lifted her off the floor._

_She was quiet now. Too quiet …_

_As he carried her outside into the storm, searching for shelter amidst the rocks, he felt something wet trickle over his arm._

" _Hang on," he begged, even as more moisture threatened to dampen his cheeks. "Stay with me."_

_She coughed, gurgled, and spat up on his uniform._

_A tear, blown sideways by the strong winds, escaped his eye and ran down his nose. "Don't die on me now, Kathryn," he pleaded, even as he increased his pace towards the nearest indent in the rock._

_Meanwhile, the body in his arms grew wetter, and, curiously, lighter. He glanced down, noting that every area of her exposed skin was glistening with moisture. She looked as if she were made of wet clay …_

" _No!" he cried once more, watching with horror as she melted in his arms, finally slipping through them onto the rocky ground, until all that was left was a puddle of goo and her dirty uniform._

_He stared at the ground and screamed._

Chakotay bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. He brought a hand to his mouth, wrestling the urge to be sick at the vivid picture lodged in his mind.

When he'd gathered the strength to will his body under control, he rose and dressed, knowing he could not sleep any more tonight. The peaceful star field outside seemed to mock him, contrasting starkly with the palpitations of his heart.

He headed towards Sickbay, desperately wanting a new vision of Kathryn – even if it be a comatose one on a biobed – to override the grotesque image from his nightmare. He hoped the Doctor would let him stay this time; before, when he'd returned to Sickbay after escorting their visitor to Engineering to consult with Lieutenant Torres, the holographic doctor had threatened to sedate him. Grudgingly, he'd retired to his quarters, leaving the captain in the capable hands of Kes and the EMH.

He felt as if his crew – _no_ , he reminded himself, _her crew_ – was conspiring against him. Before the Doctor had chided him, Tuvok had requested a meeting in the ready room, then suggested that Chakotay was not fit for bridge duty. "This crew will not benefit from the leadership of an exhausted commander," he'd reprimanded.

Chakotay almost laughed, remembering that. Hadn't Kathryn told him that the Vulcan had said something similar to her when they'd first gotten pulled into the Delta Quadrant? It was just another example of what she had to put up with on a daily basis, one of the many aspects of the job he wasn't looking forward to taking over …

He shook himself harshly. _I won't be taking over. She's probably recovering now; the Doctor's found a cure and she just needs to rest_ …

His hopes were quickly quashed at the scene he encountered as the Sickbay doors opened before him.

On a biobed in the middle of the room lay the captain, as still as ever, and, if possible, even paler and thinner than when he'd left her last. Kes held vigil beside her, head bent as if in prayer. The Ocampa looked up, and he saw that her eyes were swollen from crying.

He shook his head. _She can't be dead … they'd have told me right away …_

Before he'd had time to fully process the sight in front of him, Kes stood and ran into his embrace, wrapping her thin arms around his torso. Stunned, he held her as she sobbed, and after a few minutes, he noticed his own tears running down his face.

He pulled back only when the beep of his communicator roused him. He kept a hand on Kes's shoulder even as he tapped the badge to reply.

* * *

B'Elanna eyed the alien with distrust. She was obligated to follow the commander's orders to work with it, but she didn't have to like it. Sighing, she pointed to the console. "Here," she demanded, "calibrate the phase coil."

The alien had demonstrated the device aboard its escape pod, and Chakotay had been impressed. B'Elanna had been … less so, but intrigued nonetheless. So here they were, attempting to implement the technology on a larger scale, with different characteristics of the object to be hidden, and, thus far, without success.

Honestly, she didn't understand why this "collaboration" was not a violation of the Prime Directive, but the alien insisted that there was no technology _Voyager_ had that it didn't know about already. She'd doubted it – in fact, had barely suppressed a snort at the assertion – but its suggestion of outfitting the ship with some sort of cloak had swayed the commander – though, no doubt, in his condition, he wasn't exactly thinking rationally; Chakotay's visible distress over the captain's condition wasn't exactly subtle.

He hadn't said anything explicitly, but it was clear the captain was at the forefront of his mind. It therefore fell to B'Elanna – who wasn't altogether unaffected herself – to make sure they didn't do anything stupid – that is, after the initial stupidity of working with the alien in the first place, which was a direct order. It was bad enough to disobey the captain during good times; she didn't want to find out what it was like to disobey an irritable commander – who was possibly following the captain's wishes – or what he guessed they might be. Of all the people on the ship, it was always the captain who gave the most benefit of the doubt, insisted that peaceful means were used whenever necessary, and the commander was obviously attempting to emulate her. If it were up to B'Elanna, they wouldn't be taking any chances. Take the thing's blood or whatever the Doctor needed from it, then space it …

* * *

_It was the most joyous sound she had heard in quite some time._

" _We are detecting the alien ship."_

_The sensors had been brought back on line less than one cycle ago, but there had been no luck in finding the wayward rogue. It was becoming increasingly clear that he had escaped not just to preserve his own life, but because he was harboring some great secret, perhaps of great value to her. Therefore, her primary goal was to recapture him. If he would not talk, she could always encode his brain and reveal his secrets that way …_

_She searched her mind, contemplating the situation. There was only one reason that ship would still be present in her space – and it was the same reason they could not find the escapee. Somehow, that little tinkerer had formed an alliance with that alien race, and was likely aboard their ship, perhaps selling technology to them … but for what? This, more than anything, she wanted to know. If the aliens would not share their technology with her, then why would they share with him? Obviously he knew something quite valuable indeed. And after she found out what that was, she could rid herself of the pesky annoyance that was the malnourished little tinkerer …_

" _Do we have weapons?" she asked._

_The officer bowed before her. "Yes, my Queen. Shall we destroy them?"_

_Her antennae moved almost imperceptibly as she considered the offer. "No," she answered firmly. "Not yet. In fact, hail them."_

* * *

"We are detecting the alien ship," Lieutenant Ayala announced tremulously, unable to conceal the worry in his voice. He too shared the unspoken thought circulating amongst the bridge crew: _why are we still here?_

Tuvok rose from the captain's chair, raising an eyebrow. He tapped his communicator as he moved to examine the image on Ayala's console. "Bridge to Engineering," he called. "What is the status of the cloaking device?"

"We've made some modifications," answered Lieutenant Torres. "It may be enough, though there's no way to test it from inside. Permission to send a probe?"

"Denied," answered the Vulcan. "There is no time for a 'dry run' at this moment. We must hope that the device is operational."

"Commander?" asked B'Elanna curiously.

"Stand by," he replied calmly. The initial dominant strategy was to wait.

He wished he could allow Commander Chakotay to continue resting, but to make an important decision regarding the aliens without at least informing him of the situation, while possibly a wise tactic given the commander's current distress, would be insubordination, and was therefore unacceptable.

He tapped his communicator. "Tuvok to Chakotay," he called. For a moment, silence was his only reply.

Belatedly, the commander answered, and even over the comm, the crack in his voice was audible. "Chakotay here."

"We have re-encountered the alien ship. We have reason to believe they cannot detect us at this time, but nevertheless, your presence on the bridge would be prudent."

"I'll be there momentarily," Chakotay announced.

His duty fulfilled, Tuvok resumed his vigil and awaited the commander's arrival. Within moments, they received a hail, proving that the efforts in Engineering had failed. Disappointed, but ready to negotiate – or at least stall until the commander arrived on the bridge – he ordered, "On screen."

* * *

_The tinkerer overheard the conversation between the engineer with the bumpy face and the bridge officer in charge. He knew the device was not yet functional; how else could the ship have found them so quickly? It also meant that the repairs were likely nearing completion, if not complete already. And the only reason they had not yet attacked must be that they suspected his presence aboard the ship …_

_If he were recaptured, surely she would take the time to read him after his execution. He could not take that risk. For the future of his people, and for these aliens, he needed to act quickly. This was his last opportunity to make a difference, to free his comrades from the reign of brutal tyranny. The aliens would thank him for the favor, and he would return home a hero and be able to choose any female he wished to provide the offspring he'd lately desired._

_Carefully, he began inputting commands into his console. With any luck, they had not changed the codes …_

* * *

Chakotay let go of Kes and approached Kathryn's bedside. Gently, he reached over and brushed a hair from her forehead, and a lingering tear dripped from his eye onto her cheek. As the Ocampa looked on plaintively, he bent down and kissed his captain where the tear had fallen.

"I have to go now, Kathryn," he whispered. "Please hang on. The Doctor's doing everything he can; we'll get you back. But I have to keep the ship safe for you."

As if to defy him one last time, she jerked slightly and then was still, as an alarm sounded to notify the Doctor of her expiration. Instantly, the EMH appeared, pushing Chakotay out of his way and barking orders to Kes above the whine of the alarm.

For a moment, Chakotay hesitated, torn between staying in Sickbay – as if his mere presence could prevent the captain's death – and returning to the bridge.

As his eyes lingered on the captain's diminutive form and the EMH and Kes frantically administered to her, _Voyager_ shuddered, and automatically, he tapped his communicator.

"Tuvok, what's going on?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Tuvok replied quickly, and his voice was tinged with as much surprise as a Vulcan would ever express. "The alien ship has been destroyed."


	9. Life and Death

As Chakotay lingered in the doorway, the Doctor ceased his frantic motions and stood still, almost reverently, over the captain. He then uttered one heartbreaking sentence, and Chakotay thought he felt his soul shatter as the hologram's words passed his ears.

"Record time of death, 0547 hours."

Fighting tears yet again, the commander steeled himself and exited Sickbay. There was no time to dwell on broken hopes and dreams; there was a crisis underway, and he was needed on the bridge.

"Tuvok," he spoke into the air, knowing the communication line was still open, and idly wondering whether the bridge crew had overheard the unwelcome news, "how was the ship destroyed?"

"Unknown, Commander," he heard. "Or shall I address you as Captain?"

"Negative, Tuvok," he responded quickly, though the remark had answered his unasked question: they knew. But he wasn't ready to accept it, not yet. If he acknowledged that she was gone, he would have to mourn, and he didn't have time for that – not now, not with an unknown threat that had already destroyed another ship. Moreover, to take the captain's title would be to affirm the fact that his valiant efforts to save her life had been in vain, and perhaps, that in light of his monumental failure, he was not worthy of the job he had inherited.

For a moment, he contemplated passing up the job and letting Tuvok take over. The Vulcan, of course, had known Captain Janeway longer than he, and would probably need to spend hours meditating to deal with the loss, but at least his logic would allow him to function in the meantime …

"Commander?" he heard, and realized he'd given no further instructions. Perhaps now would be a good time to let Tuvok know he was the new captain.

Chakotay shook himself then, realizing that the greatest disservice he could do to the captain's memory would be to shirk his duties now. "I'll be there in a moment. Stand by," he ordered, entering the turbolift and hitting his communicator to end the connection.

As soon as the doors closed, he slid down the wall, sinking into a heap on the floor, his head in his hands as his face screwed up. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of grief, and large, hot tears spilled from his eyes, trickled over his fingers, and dripped onto the floor.

He realized then that the turbolift had not moved. Hastily wiping his eyes and, with considerable effort, rising from the floor, he ordered the bridge. As the lift began the short journey towards its destination, Chakotay concentrated on composing himself. Though probably noone would blame him, it would unsettle an already upset crew if their commander showed up on the bridge an emotional wreck. He needed to be strong … for them, and for her.

When he exited the turbolift, no sign of his recent breakdown was evident, except perhaps to the perceptive Vulcan, who seemed to eye him with considerable concern as he ceded the bridge to his superior officer.

"On screen," Chakotay ordered, and instantly, the debris from the explosion assaulted his eyes. Dread settled in his chest as he turned to Tuvok, looking desperately for an explanation that did not involve a Red Alert. "Are there other ships in the vicinity?" he asked.

"None that we can detect," answered Tuvok, and the unspoken threat hung heavy in the air: _if the ship that destroyed the alien vessel is here, it may be cloaked._

However, after keying a few codes at his station, he offered an explanation. "It appears we are responsible for the alien ship's destruction. I'm detecting a Federation weapons signature."

Alarmed, Chakotay stared. "Did you order someone to fire?" he asked warily, realizing as soon as the words escaped his lips that they were rather inane. After all, if Tuvok had given the order, he wouldn't have been so surprised …

"No," was the prompt response. "The command appears to have originated from Engineering."

"How is that possible?" asked Chakotay. "Someone would have had to authorize such an attack."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Instantly, the commander ran through possibilities in his mind. The only person who had that authority, of course, was Lieutenant Torres. But Chakotay couldn't imagine her taking matters into her own hands like that: though she was hot-headed at times, she wasn't that foolish, was she? Could her judgment have been affected by the captain's death? Then he reminded himself that she probably didn't yet know … it was only the bridge crew that had overheard over the comm. Wasn't it?

The commander tapped his communicator. "Chakotay to Engineering. B'Elanna, you there?"

"Aye, Sir," he heard. "We felt something a little while ago. Is everything all right?"

"We're trying to determine that," he answered. "What you felt was the destruction of the alien ship, and it appears the order to fire on it came from your department."

"That's not possible …" she started, but then halted. "Hold on," she amended.

Seconds later, she continued, sounding rather distraught. "I am so sorry," she stated. "I didn't realize I'd …"

Chakotay interrupted her. "Don't worry about blame right now, B'Elanna. What happened?"

"If I may," another voice interjected, "I destroyed the mother ship. I thought you would appreciate my preemptive efforts to protect yours."

* * *

Kes stared disbelievingly at the lifeless body of the woman who had served as a surrogate mother to her for the majority of her lifetime. Had the Doctor's efforts really failed? Was the captain really gone? It didn't seem within the possibilities of the universe she knew that something could defeat Captain Janeway, nor that she could essentially lose a parent for the third time in her life. She barely remembered her birth mother, and she missed her father terribly, but she knew the loss of the captain was going to be completely different, a far greater trauma, and perhaps one from which she would never completely recover.

Trying desperately to distract herself from the shock and grief, she began reading charts for the autopsy. Something caught her eye.

"Doctor," she called, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've got to take a look at this."

"What is it, Kes?" he asked, sounding quite annoyed – perhaps a coping mechanism to avoid dealing with the evident inadequacies of his program that had caused the captain's death.

She pointed at the readout. "The poison's moving," she observed. "It's concentrating itself in her muscle tissue."

Suddenly fascinated, the Doctor pushed Kes aside and began typing commands into the console. "It makes sense," he confirmed. "It's trying to digest the most edible parts of her. Before, when her immune system was fighting it, it was attempting to hide, to survive while it waited for the victim to die. That was why we couldn't get to it to counteract it. But now …"

He fell silent for a moment, then spoke up again. "Kes, get me one hundred cc's of the serum in a hypodermic needle. Now."

Scrambling, she handed him the requested item, and he set to work immediately, injecting the antidote directly into the sites at which the venom had collected.

"Cortical stimulators," he said, and again, Kes retrieved the device promptly, placing it on the captain's forehead.

"Clear," he demanded, and Kes typed a command, causing the captain's body to arch violently.

"Again," he ordered after Janeway became still once more. She jerked anew, and a beeping noise began.

"We have a heartbeat," announced the Doctor triumphantly, and Kes could have sworn the lights of Sickbay actually increased their illumination at the joyful revelation. "Oxygen," the EMH requested.

Kes obliged, placing the mask over the captain's face, which immediately began turning from its pale grey pallor towards the rosy hue of a living human being …

* * *

_Why did the aliens seem angry with him? Clearly, he had done them a favor in destroying the mother ship. With the repairs nearly complete, She wouldn't have let them get away so easily a second time._

_The ship's new leader and its dark-coated second-in-command regarded him intently, and he resisted the urge to shrink under the scrutiny._

" _Why did you do it?" they asked him._

" _To protect you," he replied emphatically, frustrated at their failure to acknowledge the obvious. "Really, I see no reason for this persecution," he added, looking towards the guards who had trained their weapons on him._

_The two in command eyed each other before readdressing him. The dark one spoke. "We don't believe you."_

_He didn't understand why they couldn't accept a favor. By all accounts, he had saved their lives. His antennae drooped with the realization that perhaps he had completely misjudged this race. Was it possible that they were as paranoid and backwards as his own people?_

_The painted one spoke up. "Are there other ships in your fleet?" it asked._

" _Yes, of course," he answered. "But none more powerful than the one I have destroyed. You might easily defeat them in battle."_

_The first-in-command hesitated before continuing. "One at a time, or collectively? What kind of retaliation can we expect for the destruction of your greatest ship and your world's leader?"_

_It paused, but not long enough for the tinkerer to interject. "Even if I were to condone the slaughter of sentient beings in general," it explained, "which we don't, as a rule – it seems that your act of aggression may have put us in more danger. Your ship was not threatening us …"_

_He interrupted quickly. "But it did! And it would have again! I protected you!" he insisted._

" _That may be," answered the alien. "But you see, that is not how we do things among our people. We try to resolve conflict in nonviolent ways, mostly because we have learned that violence begets violence. I cannot judge at this time whether we can afford to stay within your space long enough to return you to your home world, nor whether you still wish to return, knowing we will tell them what you have done."_

_He didn't think he'd felt a greater sense of betrayal at any point during his lifetime. "You promised that I would have safe passage home in return for helping your former leader," he pleaded, his words confirming his continued desire to repatriate. "Do your people also not believe in keeping promises?"_

_The alien appeared to contemplate his words. "Our former leader is dead," it stated, causing an audible noise – of surprise? – to escape from the Chief Engineer and some of the others present. So his suspicions had been correct – the efforts to save its life had been futile – and yet, it seemed, the news of the death had not yet been circulated. He contemplated the implications of those two seemingly incongruous conclusions. He also mused on the clear evidence that the departure of one worshipped individual was a difficult circumstance to accept for any species, even in the event that said departure was in their best interest long-term. Shouldn't the one in command now at least be glad of its newfound authority? Why didn't it seem at all pleased with the news it had just dispensed?_

_The alien continued. "Escort our guest to the brig," it ordered the guards. Then, it turned back to address him. "I'll deal with you later."_

_Alarmed, he protested. "What about the sensor shield?"_

_He was shot with a look he thought might have been disgust. "I have a feeling that would never have worked," it stated, its words of distrust providing a further blow to his pride. "And if there is any hope, they can continue without your help."_

" _I saved your life!" he tried again as the alien turned to leave._

_It halted, turning back to face him. "For now, perhaps," it amended, "and for now, we will save yours. You will not be harmed while we figure out what to do with you."_

_Somehow, he did not find that particularly reassuring, but left without a choice, he allowed the guards to escort him to their prison._

* * *

There was only one thing certain in Chakotay's mind, and that was that he desperately needed the captain's advice. Should they offer the alien asylum? Honestly, he didn't trust the thing as far as he could throw it, and considered it a threat as long as it was still on the ship. If it could remotely destroy its own ship on a perceived threat to who knew what – he didn't believe for a moment that its motives were altruistic – it could whimsically decide to "save" someone else by destroying _Voyager_. And if it managed to con B'Elanna into allowing it the access it needed to fire, he had no doubt it would find a way to manage whatever it attempted.

The captain would know what to do, if she were here. If only he could just talk to her one last time …

Well, he could, at least, talk to her, even if she couldn't talk back. Perhaps she could still help him sort out his thoughts. He made his way to Sickbay.

As the doors opened, he blinked furiously, distrusting the evidence presenting itself before his very eyes. The captain was wearing an oxygen mask, and Kes and the Doctor worked around her, setting up equipment and occasionally injecting her with hyposprays.

He gaped. Hadn't she been dead? What miracle was this? Or was it an illusion, a trick his distraught mind was playing on him? Had he passed out in the turbolift, and was dreaming the whole thing? Slowly, he crept forward, wanting desperately for his vision to be reality, but not wanting to be duped yet again into false hope. He didn't think he could take another disappointment without breaking entirely.

Or had he already broken?

He felt as if he were moving through a hazy dream as he approached her side, and the medics, still busy with their ministrations, did nothing to halt his progress, adding to his suspicions that the entire scene was playing out inside his mind. Yet, when he touched her arm, it was warm, and the heat seemed to radiate through his skin and directly into his heart, infusing it with the almost-forgotten sensation he distantly identified as hope.

Then she opened her eyes.

He began to cry, not contemplating the effect his apparent distress would have on her as her waking greeting.

The beeping instantly increased its tempo, and he felt himself being pushed aside, his hand seeming to freeze into ice as it left her skin. Unaware of his gesticulation, he continued to reach out towards her as she tunneled into the distance.

Small hands grabbed onto him then, steadying him as he realized belatedly that he had almost fainted. He felt himself being led to a biobed, and obediently lay as the Ocampa returned to treating her original patient. He watched in silence, catching only a word here and there as they seemed to struggle to keep her alive.

"Deep breaths …"

"Quickly …"

"Don't fight it."

"Trying to help you …"

Something nagged at the corner of Chakotay's mind. Somehow he knew that the captain was not being comforted or helped by the Doctor's words, though he wasn't exactly sure why.

"We're losing her," he heard, and instantly, his mind was made up. Swallowing harshly, he jumped down off the biobed and made his way back towards the captain.

"Can't you sedate her?" he found himself asking desperately.

The Doctor shot him a dirty look. "She's too weak. It'd kill her." The EMH then resumed his ineffective attempts to calm her, as she seemed to grow even more agitated.

"Something she told me …" Chakotay started. "I think she …" Why couldn't he articulate what he wanted? The words were all muddled in his head. Finally, he raised his voice to express the one coherent thought in his mind. "Let me try!"

Helplessly, the hologram stood aside and allowed the commander access. Chakotay peered down at her and attempted to enter her field of vision as she stared, seemingly despondent, at the ceiling. He reached down and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, and the beeping that echoed her heartbeat slowed slightly.

"That's good!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Keep going!"

He began to whisper to her. "Kathryn, listen to me," he said, all the while stroking her hair. "You're alive, and we're trying to keep you that way. Please, stay with us. I love you so much. Please live."

Going completely on instinct, he reached underneath her and, careful not to disturb the tubes attached to her body, gathered her frail form into his arms as the frantic beeping continued to decrease in tempo.

She weighed less than some children he had carried, and he marveled that she could still be alive as he cradled her and began to rock her. He had no doubt that, if she had the strength, she'd be crying right now, and he attempted to soothe her as if she were, holding her gently and kissing her forehead. It wasn't long before she fell asleep in his arms, and ever so carefully, he replaced her on the biobed.

"Thank you, Commander," the Doctor acknowledged. "I …"

Chakotay didn't hear the rest of the EMH's words as he collapsed to the Sickbay floor, unconscious, having finally succumbed to the shock of the morning's events.


	10. Complications

_When he entered her chamber and knelt before her, she knew: it was time for her to take command._

" _What news?" she asked, feeling a mixture of ecstasy at the prospect of finally ascending to the role into which she was hatched, and dread at the revelation of the circumstances that brought forth her inauguration._

" _The mother ship was destroyed," he answered solemnly. "From the last transmissions, we believe the cause was enemy fire."_

_So … her command would begin with a challenge._

" _Indeed," she answered. "And is there reason to believe the enemy is still present, and still a threat?"_

_He appeared to tremble as his eyes remained cast upon the floor. "We do not know. However, your ship is waiting. Do you need anything before your departure?"_

_Her antennae twittered as she processed the news. "I believe I am equipped," she answered. "Take me to the ship."_

_It occurred to her as she followed him out, flanked by her usual guards along with an additional compliment, that she might need to reinforce the respect and love to which someone in her position was accustomed. She cast a fond glance at the nervous young servant and spoke reassuringly. "We will prevail," she told him confidently. "They have won a battle, but we will win the war."_

_At that, his mien appeared to ease slightly, and she allowed her antennae to gyrate with pleasure as the realization of the power she possessed filled her with unimaginable joy._

_She would be loved. More than that, she intended to earn her adoration._

* * *

Tuvok's communicator beeped as he sat on the bridge, awaiting the commander's orders.

"This is the Doctor," he heard. "I've relieved Commander Chakotay of duty."

The news was not entirely surprising. He had observed the commander's worsening condition as he worried about the captain, and now that she was gone, he could imagine the grief would provide the proverbial straw to cause his imminent collapse.

However, he now had no orders to await, and would have to make the difficult decision himself: to escape the aliens' space as quickly as possible, and determine what to do with their guest, or to proceed through it, hoping that its prediction of victory in a possible battle was accurate, and allowing them to keep their promise to deliver it to its home world.

"Acknowledged," he answered, then meditated for a moment upon the problem.

He needed more information.

"Mister Ayala," he ordered. "You have the bridge. I shall return shortly."

With that, he made his way toward the brig. He could only hope that their guest would provide the necessary information truthfully. If it refused, or if he were unsure of its honesty, he had one other course of action – but of course, that too was fraught with danger. He recalled the captain's orders never to engage in that tactic again without consulting her first.

Of course, since she was no longer available to consult …

* * *

_A cool breeze blew across their shoulders, barely disturbing the calm of the lake's surface, causing the subtle ripples to glint in the moonlight. Kathryn shivered slightly, and, noticing, Chakotay slipped an arm around her shoulder and drew her near._

" _Wouldn't want to catch a chill," spoke a deep, authoritative voice._

" _Father, what are you doing here?" Chakotay asked, glancing up to see his father sitting on the opposite side of the boat._

" _Look, my son, at the insects upon the water," the older man instructed._

_Obediently, Chakotay turned his eyes towards the water, just as he had so many years ago, and witnessed the dance that had been so awe-inspiring to his younger self._

" _What magic keeps them afloat?" he found himself asking once again. "They are not putting any effort into swimming."_

_His father smiled. "Surface tension," he replied, not providing any further explanation, with the intention that the boy would continue to ask and learn. The mosquitos, however, had other intentions, and thwarted the father's efforts by biting the son._

_Chakotay frowned. "I don't like them," he complained. "I wish they would sink and not bite me." At that, he began to scratch his arm, which had started to itch._

_As he scratched, the percussive noises of the insects grew louder, competing with the soft sound of nails on skin._

_It was then that he realized he'd completely forgotten his companion, and when he looked over to see where she was, he found her missing._

" _Kathryn?" he called as he leaned over the side of the boat, looking for the source of the noises._

_She was under the water, completely still ... hiding from the insects so that they could not bite her too?_

_But she wasn't breathing … she couldn't hold her breath forever …_

" _No!" he cried, poising to dive in after her._

" _Be careful," his father spoke again. "They are formidable enemies."_

_He hesitated, looked up. "Who?"_

_His father looked knowingly at him. "They speak to you," he advised. "Listen."_

_Indeed, the chirps and clicks seemed to have a pattern to them._

" _Ch-k-t. Ch-k-t."_

_It was almost as if they were trying to say his name …_

_And then they were climbing up, into the boat, and as he peered at them, he realized that they weren't mosquitos after all, but spiders. Feeling them begin to crawl over his skin, he desperately contemplated diving into the water, but as he looked over, he was sickened by the sight of Kathryn, still underwater, but covered with welts, her blood reddening the water …_

_The clicking noise grew louder. "Ch-k-t." He gagged …_

Chakotay's eyes flew open, and he found himself in Sickbay. He closed his eyes again for a moment, attempting to slow his racing heart lest he throw up.

"Ch-k-t."

As the now-familiar sound reached his ears again, he wondered briefly whether he was still asleep. Opening his eyes again, he attempted to assess the situation, and realized the sound was emanating from the adjacent biobed.

Kathryn was not only alive, but awake, and she was calling his name as best she could ...

Instantly, he hopped down off the bed, briefly grabbing hold of the side to ward off a sudden bout of vertigo. Steadied slightly, he moved to her side, placing a hand upon her cheek.

"Don't speak," he told her. "I'll get you some water."

For a moment, he peered into her eyes and relished in the simple touch of his skin to hers, reveling once again in the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Reluctantly, he drew his hand away from her face and proceeded to the replicator to do as he'd promised.

He returned with the glass of water, and with one hand, reached underneath her and helped her to sit up slightly, while with the other, he carefully tipped the water into her mouth.

She sipped greedily, but soon began to cough and gag. He held the cup under her mouth as she spat back into it, her eyes watering with the effort of expelling the liquid she had just consumed.

Quickly, he placed the glass down beside her and gathered her into his arms. "That's all right," he cooed, rubbing her back as she gasped and continued to cough. "It's okay."

Suddenly, the Doctor appeared, looking irate.

"What are you doing to my patient?" he questioned accusingly.

Still holding her closely as she made no move to pull away – though whether it was because she didn't have the strength to do so, or whether she was actually drawing comfort from his embrace, he did not know – he looked up guiltily. "She woke up," he explained, "and she seemed parched. I was just trying to help her drink a little water."

The EMH sighed loudly. "I appreciate your trying to help, Commander, but as you may have noticed, drinking is a bit difficult for her right now. If you'd asked me first, I would have prescribed some ice chips."

"Sorry," Chakotay replied, not knowing what else to say.

Kathryn stirred in his arms, mumbling something into his shoulder. He held her away slightly so that he could hear her words.

"She's here," Kathryn whispered. "And wants … report," she managed to get out before coughing again.

Chakotay resisted the urge to laugh, but it brought up an interesting point. If they were both in Sickbay …

He looked over at the hologram. "Who's on the bridge?" he asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Tuvok, I assume. I relieved you of duty when you fainted. I don't take passing out in my Sickbay lightly. He agreed it would be unwise to leave you in charge if you couldn't even stay upright. You really ought to learn to take better care of yourself."

As if he sensed Kathryn's amusement at witnessing Chakotay's chewing-out, he added, "That goes for both of you."

Chakotay sighed, still rubbing Kathryn's back gently as she struggled to breathe without coughing. After she was able to take a few deep breaths, he lowered her back onto the biobed, then tapped his communicator.

"Chakotay to Tuvok," he called.

There was no reply.

He frowned. "Computer," he ordered. "Location of Lieutenant Commander Tuvok?"

"Lieutenant Commander Tuvok is in the brig," replied the computer.

For a moment, Chakotay panicked, surmising that, in his absence, there had been some sort of mutiny, and somehow the Vulcan had been subdued and incarcerated. However, he quickly realized that the security chief must be there to talk to their prisoner.

Sighing in relief, he looked down at the captain. "I have to go," he explained. "I'll be back soon."

"Wait!" she croaked as he turned to leave. He turned back to her and placed a hand on her arm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"How … am I alive?" she asked. "And why is Tuvok in the brig?"

Impulsively, he bent down and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about that," he instructed. "Just focus on getting better. I'll take care of everything."

"But …" she objected.

"Trust me," he implored. "The only thing you need to do right now is to get stronger."

Admittedly lacking the strength to fight him, she nodded reluctantly, and he smiled weakly. Again, he lingered for a moment at her side, squeezing her arm and silently thanking the gods that he still could as he looked into her uneasy eyes.

Then he turned and exited Sickbay.

* * *

Lieutenant Torres's patience was wearing thin. She hadn't had much to begin with, but now that she was alone on this project, she was finding it more and more frustrating.

In short, she had no idea why it wouldn't work. The small-scale version had been functional – at least, it had fooled _Voyager_ 's sensors, and, if she were to believe the alien, it had fooled its ship as well.

She just couldn't seem to figure out how to calibrate the device to _Voyager_ 's shield frequency. She could get the masking to work when the shields weren't up, but no Starfleet officer would take that risk. If, for some reason, any little glitch made the ship visible, it would be completely vulnerable to attack …

She slapped the console angrily. She needed advice. Much as she regretted to admit it, that creature was useful. And she wasn't at all sure that throwing it in the brig for saving their lives was the wisest of decisions … now it might not be willing to help anymore.

She sighed. If only the captain were here, she'd probably have something encouraging to say, and maybe – just maybe – she'd see something obvious that B'Elanna was missing. The captain was – had been – a brilliant engineer, as well as a brilliant leader. Honestly, B'Elanna was slightly jealous: if their roles were suddenly reversed, the lieutenant had no doubt Captain Janeway would exceed her, while she'd be hopeless as a captain. But once she'd learned to internalize her envy, she'd appreciated that the captain knew her job well enough to help her. She had to admit it was useful to have a captain capable of taking over various functions aboard the ship if need be.

But now the captain was gone, and she was truly on her own.

She didn't know whether she could do it.

Before she could control it, a tear trickled down the side of her face. Hastily, she wiped it away, and immediately made a decision.

She was going to go talk to that thing, and hope that, despite its harsh treatment, it would still be willing to deal.

As she made her way towards the brig, her thoughts strayed to the commander, who was obviously taking the captain's death pretty hard. She hadn't seen him since he'd ordered the alien thrown in the brig, and she found herself worrying about his fate. It then occurred to her that, if Chakotay had just taken the ship back out of these creatures' space, she wouldn't be fussing over the stupid cloaking device any longer, for there would be no need to hide.

Suddenly, she was angry. Who did he think he was to wallow in grief when the rest of them were hurting too? Didn't he have a duty to take care of everyone else now?

Maybe she could function in command after all … the first thing she'd do would be to forget the alien and run … especially since the reason for remaining in the aliens' space no longer existed. Who cared if the trip took another few months? At least they'd all be alive … well, all except the most important one of all …

All at once, her movement was impaired by a collision with another body, and she realized she had, in her distraction, walked directly into someone. Without looking up, she mumbled an apology and moved to walk around him, but he grabbed her shoulder, preventing her from escaping. The touch startled her, and she barely suppressed a yelp.

Finally looking up, she recognized the subject of her musings. "B'Elanna, where are you going?" he asked. "And why aren't you working on the device?"

She swallowed harshly. "I can't get it to work. There's an incompatibility with our shields. I was going to the brig to talk to our … guest …"

Chakotay frowned, still not letting go of her shoulder. "I told you not to do that," he warned. "You know we can't trust it."

She looked back up at him, fire in her eyes. "No, Chakotay, I don't know that! As far as I can tell, all it's done is save our lives. You, on the other hand, have been so preoccupied with trying to save the captain that you have lost sight of the rest of us. So get off your high-and-mighty horse already and accept the fact that you've failed, forget about whatever business you're trying to conduct with these … things … and try for once to care about someone on this ship other than her!"

Taken aback, Chakotay was silent for a moment. Quietly, he asked, "Are you done?"

Now slightly embarrassed at her outburst, but not regretting what she'd said, she nodded, again struggling with tears.

Carefully, Chakotay looked into her eyes. "Listen to me, B'Elanna," he nearly whispered. "The captain is going to be fine."

Stunned, she stared for a moment before she found her voice. "She's alive?" she asked incredulously.

Smiling slightly, Chakotay nodded. "And as for taking care of the rest of the ship, that is what I am attempting to do. I was heading towards the brig myself. Why don't you come with me?"

Mutely, she nodded, and when he lowered his hand from her shoulder and began to walk, she followed along beside him.

Chakotay nodded at the guard outside, and the doors parted. The guard inside looked uneasy, but was standing at attention. As they turned the corner, they saw, just on the other side of the force field, Tuvok unmoving beside the alien, his hands on the alien's head.

Alarmed, the commander looked over at the guard. "How long have they been like this?" he asked.

The guard shrugged. "A few hours, sir."

"Hours?!" Chakotay repeated. "Why didn't you inform anyone?"

"He said it would take a while, Sir. I didn't know how long was reasonable."

Chakotay frowned. "Hours is too long," he replied. "Well, I'm here now. Lower the force field and let us check it out."

"Aye, Sir," the obviously-frightened crewman replied, and did as he was bade. Chakotay took out his tricorder and began scanning even before he entered the cell. The readings were odd, to say the least, and he immediately realized he did not have the required expertise to deal with the situation.

He was about to call the Doctor when Tuvok's communicator chirped. "Bridge to Commander Tuvok," he heard. The Vulcan made no motion to answer it, so Chakotay grabbed it off his chest.

He tapped the badge. "Chakotay here," he answered. "What's the problem?"

"This is Ayala, Sir. I didn't realize you were back on duty. Tuvok left a while ago and …"

"Yes," Chakotay interrupted. "I'm back. Now what's going on up there?"

"Sir," he heard, "sensors have just detected another alien ship, and it's approaching quickly."


	11. Fork in Recovery Road

Neelix was surprised to see Kes at his door when it chimed; the awkwardness between them since their "breakup" seemed palpable. Even though she hadn't been in command of her own body at the time, it still felt real, and as if it were a natural progression of their relationship. He'd been surprised at how unsurprising her decision had been, even though it hadn't actually been hers.

If he were to be honest with himself, she was no longer the sweet and innocent girl he'd fallen in love with on Ocampa. It wasn't that he no longer loved her – he supposed he would always love her – but perhaps that he was no longer in love with her.

His Sweeting had grown up. And perhaps, so had he. He had often lain awake nights during their time together, wondering how he would feel when she left him far too soon. The dissolution of their romance had almost been a blessing in that, at least, he would be somewhat distanced emotionally when she expired, and would not have to feel the acrid sting of a lover's final departure.

Tonight, though, a flicker of her old, vulnerable self remained. She looked worn out, physically and emotionally. He ushered her into his quarters quickly, then pulled her towards him as she began to sob.

He rubbed her back as she cried. "It's okay," he told her as he waited for her to calm and relished the familiar feel of her in his arms. "I'm here."

Then, as she gradually calmed, he whispered, "We're all grieving over the captain's death."

At that, she started and pulled away, looking up into his eyes. "Haven't you heard?" she asked.

"Heard what?" he replied, confused.

"The captain's not dead. We revived her."

He blinked. "Then why are you crying?"

She shook her head, tears threatening again. "I don't know. I'm so worried about her. And the commander, too. He disobeyed direct orders to save her life. He fainted in Sickbay. The Doctor sedated him so he'd stay asleep and told me to get some rest too, since there was nothing I more could do until the two of them woke up. But I couldn't sleep. So I came here. I … I shouldn't have bothered you, but …"

He pulled her towards him once again. "Kes, never be afraid to bother me. I've been there for you almost your whole life and I'd like to think you can count on my support for the rest of it."

He bit his lip, realizing suddenly that he was reminding her that her life was one-third over already. However, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "I know," she stated simply.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" he asked. "You always slept better when, you know …"

He half expected her to object, but she silently nodded against his chest. "I'd like that."

* * *

_In the instant when the alien's mind touched his, he suddenly felt something both unfamiliar and awe-inspiring. This alien was bonded to a mate in a way he could not have imagined if he hadn't felt it through the link. He found himself fiercely jealous of this distant companion, wishing he too could be attached …_

_Suddenly, he was assaulted with images and emotions. It was too much. He did not know any more where the alien's mind ended and his began. The alien had assured him that this would be a painless procedure, but he was in agony. He needed the alien out of his mind, and yet he craved more of this intoxicating sensation of connection to another individual._

_Memories raced through his mind. A hot, dry planet, with a moon orbiting another moon. A trial involving days alone in the desert, as a child, a trial that occasionally left children dead. His home world, an image of his father who he'd barely met before he was sent off for training. His mother, commanding him to do what seemed impossible at the time … he didn't want to play with the other kids; they were mean to him! He wanted to work out equations. She ordered him to stay away, but he wouldn't get the job he wanted if he didn't excel … she said it wasn't healthy to study all the time, but she didn't understand! How could a female understand his fascination with the inner workings of the universe? All they ever seemed to care about was power, and reproduction …_

_A bonding ceremony. Something about the mate … a female? This alien was bonded to a female! It … he?_ __…_ loved her! And yet was forbidden to express his affection … but why? This alien's love was something precious, something he longed for even though he'd never known it existed …_

_The vertigo was excruciating as the memories piled on faster and faster and he lost track of where, when, and who he was. It was as if someone had sent him careening towards the sun at close to the speed of light, causing time to dilate and mass to increase, but somehow the energy was still present to continue his acceleration._

_Suddenly, he knew he was going to die. And then he knew no more._

* * *

As the Sickbay doors closed, shielding the departing commander from view, Kathryn looked over at the holographic doctor. "Doctor," she stated, in the tone of an order.

He sighed, realizing that she intended to be difficult, but also that the return of her commanding nature indicated she was already on the road to recovery. "Yes, Captain?"

"What is going on with my ship?" she asked, hoping the Doctor would be more forthcoming than Chakotay.

He frowned. "I suspect the commander has the situation under control," he answered vaguely.

"That is **not** what I asked!" she replied, as forcefully as she could muster. "I want to know what is going on! Now!"

The Doctor shook his head. "You're in no condition to do anything other than lie on that biobed and get stronger, Captain, so there's no use in my briefing you on the ship's operations. You are not on duty, and you will not be on duty until **I** clear you. And the more you protest, the slower your recovery will be …"

She glared, even as she found herself ashamed to be fighting tears. She took a deep breath, briefly marveling at her ability to do so without coughing. "Fine," she conceded, realizing he was right, at least for now. It wasn't as if she could get up off that biobed … unless …

"What are my options?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" the EMH questioned. "Your options for what?"

"For treatment," she replied confidently, as if it were obvious. "How shall I start my recovery? What is my prognosis? What can I do to help you help me?" _How can I get out of Sickbay as quickly as possible?_

The Doctor put down the padd with her chart. "First, you must begin eating and drinking, but slowly. I cannot regenerate your muscles and internal organs without the raw materials. You need nourishment."

She nodded complacently. "Fine. Then what? How do I get back on my feet?" She was acutely aware that, should she succeed even in getting up off the biobed, she would undoubtedly collapse immediately to the floor.

The Doctor contemplated telling her that they'd cross that bridge when they came to it, but decided it couldn't hurt to warn her ahead of time of the slow process that lay ahead. "You will need extensive physiotherapy," he admitted. "I will give you a set of supporting braces with variable settings. They will allow you to work your muscles without the risk of falling. We will start with five to ten minutes of gentle exercise, with the braces at full power, and then increase the time and decrease the power gradually. In between physiotherapy sessions, we can regenerate muscle tissue, if you are eating properly. Within a few weeks, you should be good as new."

"Good," she replied, surprising him. He'd expected her to protest the therapy or the long recovery time. Most patients found the use of the braces humiliating. "Can I see them?"

"What?" he asked, before his program had time to fully process her request. "Oh," he continued after a moment, "I suppose I could show them to you. After a meal, perhaps. Can I interest you in some leola broth? I realize it's not the most appealing of options, but it's highly nutritious and …"

She interrupted him. "It'll do fine. Please, bring me the broth and the braces so that I can … prepare myself."

He returned a moment later with the requested items. Setting the braces on the biobed next to her, he approached with the soup, and she cringed as she realized he intended to spoon-feed her. However, after what had happened when Chakotay had let her drink water, she didn't blame the Doctor for insisting upon controlling her ingestion.

The first spoonful was torture, but she attempted not to let it show. She knew that any apparent discomfort might result in unwanted treatment, possibly even sedation. And, illogically and disturbingly, she still harbored a latent fear that the Doctor would decide her condition was untreatable and euthanize her. She forced down sip after sip of the vile liquid, all the while surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of her eye at the metallic objects on the adjacent biobed. After a while, she got used to the taste and the sensation of swallowing and found that having something in her stomach was, in fact, somewhat invigorating.

She had choked down about half the bowl when the whine of the transporter attracted their attention. In a moment, Tuvok and their alien visitor appeared, intertwined, on the floor.

Alarmed, the Doctor placed the bowl on the instrument table beside the captain's biobed, grabbed a tricorder, and raced towards the two beings that had just materialized on the Sickbay floor, scanning as he approached.

He tapped his communicator. "Sickbay to Kes. I need you here immediately."

The voice that responded was Neelix's. "We'll be right there," he answered.

The Doctor raised a holographic eyebrow, but did not have enough random access memory available to contemplate the implications of this reply.

Back in the Talaxian's quarters, Kes stirred groggily. "Come on, Sweeting," he told her as he stroked her forehead. "Time to wake up. The Doctor needs you."

"Right," she answered quickly, momentarily confused as to why she had been sleeping in his quarters. "I'll be out of your way in a second."

He shook his head as she rose from the bed. "I'm coming with you. It sounds like at least one person there is going to need a morale officer."

* * *

When Chakotay arrived on the bridge, he thought Ayala had never appeared more relieved to relinquish command. He didn't blame the lieutenant for his eagerness to return to his own duty station; after all, he'd been promised he'd be overseeing the situation far more temporarily than came to pass, and hadn't expected a crisis to arise on his watch. In fact, the commander wasn't convinced he was up to dealing with this either, but he didn't have a choice. Until the captain had recovered – and he consoled himself with the knowledge that she _would_ recover – it was up to him to keep her ship intact. He'd already almost failed her; he was determined to make sure she returned to a happy, healthy, and safe crew.

"Report," he ordered, nodding towards Ensign Kim. _Was the poor boy actually shaking with terror?_ It occurred to him that Kim, along with the rest of the present bridge crew, probably still thought the captain was dead, but he didn't have time to undeceive them now. Given that they didn't officially know that the captain had perished - in fact, the Doctor's overheard announcement could have been about any patient - he preferred not to broach the subject at all, knowing there would be plenty of questions he wouldn't want to answer even if he could.

Harry pursed his lips before answering. "Commander, the ship is heading towards us at a relative speed of approximately Warp Two. They should intersect with our trajectory in less than half an hour. They'll be in communications range in less than two minutes."

Chakotay nodded solemnly. They needed that cloak working now. He struggled to remember what B'Elanna had said about that in the hall. She'd been heading towards the brig to solicit the alien's counsel, and of course they'd found it indisposed, along with their chief of security …

It occurred to him that he'd just left B'Elanna in the brig with the others, and he tapped his communicator. "Chakotay to Lieutenant Torres," he called.

"Torres here," she answered. Before he could ask, she continued. "I sent Tuvok and our visitor to Sickbay," she told him, "and I'm back in Engineering now. I'm still not having any luck with the device, but I've enlisted the help of Ensign Vorik, and we understand the urgency of the situation."

"Good," was all Chakotay could think to reply. He'd have to remember to commend her for her foresight after this crisis was over. It occurred to him that she was dealing better than he was, and he found himself wryly amused by that fact.

He turned back to Ensign Kim. "As soon as they are in range, I want you to hail them."

Harry balked. "Commander?"

He frowned. "Just do it."

Gulping, Harry turned towards the console and began typing. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up. "They're hailing _us_ ," he remarked, clearly surprised.

"On screen," ordered Chakotay.

An alien, indistinguishable from the others they had seen over the past few days, appeared on the screen.

It spoke. "You have violated our space. _Again_. Explain yourselves." It occurred to the commander that this was progress … after all, it hadn't made threats. Yet.

He glanced back at Harry to see how he was doing, and he seemed no more frightened than he had been before. In fact, he looked slightly more at ease than he had been a few minutes ago.

Encouraged, Chakotay answered. "We mean you no harm," he started. "We're only trying to get home. We didn't know where the borders of your space were, and I assure you we intend to pass through without causing any damage."

The alien seemed to gesture with its antennae. "You have already destroyed one of our ships," it accused. "We do not consider that harmless. Our leader was aboard that ship."

"No," the commander replied urgently. "It was one of your own that destroyed your vessel. We have the one responsible on board, confined. We will return your citizen if you wish."

The alien paused, seeming to consider the offer. "And what do you ask in return?"

"Only permission to pass through your space," he tried, feeling hopeful.

"And if we refuse?"

He panicked for a moment, after which instinct dictated his reply. "We are prepared to fight."

The alien twisted slightly, then faced the screen again. "That should not be necessary. Send me the one that is responsible. If he corroborates your story, you will be allowed what you request."

It sounded promising. Too promising …

"If not," the alien continued, "we too are prepared to fight."


	12. Rogue

_No alien had ever escaped their space before. These aliens had not only escaped, but had returned. Intelligent enough to defeat their most powerful vessel and previous leader, yet foolhardy enough to return directly to the web, they were an enigma indeed … an enigma worth studying further. Could they possibly believe they were capable of dancing upon silk tendrils without becoming ensnared? Could they possibly_ be _capable of dancing upon silk tendrils without becoming ensnared?_

_If she were to decipher these aliens, and perhaps glean valuable information from their strategy, she would distinguish herself from her predecessors … maybe all of them. She would lead her people into a new era of enlightenment._

_First, though, dissent needed to be eradicated. If there was one traitor in their midst, there were probably others. She wondered how many heads she would need to read before she determined the level of threat to their great civilization._

_Her antennae twitched in anticipation of the events to come._

* * *

Captain Janeway watched with muted horror as her oldest friend fought for his life on the floor of Sickbay.

"We can't risk separating them yet. For the moment, they are both alive, and let's try to keep them that way."

 _Why was there an alien in their midst? Had she not engineered_ Voyager _'s escape?_

She sighed, looking around for someone who might be available to answer questions. She spotted the Talaxian in the corner of the room. He looked on, but did not appear to be engaged in the action.

"Neelix!" she called, as loudly as she could.

He rushed forward to his captain's bedside. "Yes, Captain! What can I do for you today?" he asked.

"First," she ordered, "you can tell me why one of the aliens is here, attached to my security officer."

Neelix squirmed uncomfortably, but Janeway's eyes defied him. _I am still the captain, and you will obey me_.

"Ah, yes, well," he started, then paused. Her glare spurred him to continue. "I don't know about what's going on with Mr. Tuvok, but we returned to their space to save your life."

The captain was irate. "You what? Whyever would that be necessary?"

Neelix looked sheepish. "I don't really know. Chakotay was certain of it, though. I suppose you could ask the Doctor … uhh, later. But, considering you're here, I suppose it worked."

Janeway shook her head. _It only worked if we all make it out of this alive._ "Never mind." She eyed the braces lying next to her. "There is something else you can help me with now."

The Talaxan nodded. "Of course. Anything."

"Those braces," she nodded in the relevant direction. "They'll get me back on my feet. The Doctor was about to assist me with them before Tuvok and the alien arrived. Since he's busy now, do you think you might be able to help me get them on?" She gave him the sweetest smile she could muster as encouragement.

He looked around dubiously, but finding the EMH too preoccupied to give explicit approval in a timely manner, Neelix nodded hesitantly. "I suppose I could try." Eying her medical gown, he added, "Do you also need some clothes?"

With wide eyes, she marveled at his thoughtful observation. "Yes, Neelix, that would be appreciated. Just replicate me a new uniform, if you will. Charge it to my rations."

"Aye, Captain," the Talaxian replied, and for once the captain was extremely grateful for his obsequious nature and opportune presence.

* * *

As the channel closed and the viewscreen returned to the image of the alien ship, Chakotay was quite aware he'd just made a promise he might not be able to keep. It wouldn't be the first time … in the Maquis, it was almost routine. However, since becoming a Starfleet officer again, he'd rarely had to bluff; in fact, he had to admit he'd made more uncertain promises to his captain than to potential enemies.

His captain … he really could use her counsel now, but she was weak from her illness, and should not be burdened with the stress of the current crisis … at least, that was the excuse he gave himself not to confide in his recovering commanding officer. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd admit that he was hiding the truth from her much as a child would hide a misdeed from his parents. And, like a parent, she would inevitably find out, and he would accept his punishment, but he hoped to at least return the ship to her command in safety before suffering the consequences of his actions. It was not that he believed his punishment would be more lenient – in fact, he shuddered to think of her wrath when the full knowledge of what had transpired was realized – but he'd returned to the aliens' space with the full intention of saving both her and her ship, and he didn't intend to fail.

He hailed Sickbay. "What is the status of Mr. Tuvok and our guest, Doctor?"

"It's touch and go, Commander," the Doctor admitted. "We've got Tuvok stabilized, but I am not familiar enough with the alien's anatomy, especially its nervous system. Kes is attempting to break the meld in order to allow us to work more efficiently."

"And what is the prognosis, Doctor?" the commander asked warily.

"Tuvok should make a full recovery," the EMH assured, "but I cannot make the same guarantee for our guest."

"Understood," Chakotay responded. "Update me when you have them separated, or … if anything else changes." He didn't dare to speculate as to other possible outcomes.

Tapping his communicator, he began to pace. How long would it take the alien ship to realize nothing was transpiring and demand an explanation? And, what explanation would he provide?

He hoped the situation would resolve itself before he had a chance to find out.

* * *

B'Elanna wiped sweat from her brow as she tried yet another setting. It was difficult to concentrate when all she could think about was the captain, and how her own mistakes had almost led to the captain's death, more than once. In this case, while the plan had not been her idea, she'd been a willing conspirator, and therefore felt somewhat responsible for the fate that had befallen her commanding officer. After all, it was the engineer who had shown the captain how to disable the aliens' ship. Without that tidbit, there would have been no plan, and the captain would never have returned to _Voyager_ with one foot already in Sto'Vo'Kor.

While the news was welcome that the captain was not as dead as she had been rumored to be, she knew from observing Chakotay during their conversation earlier that there were still grave concerns: about Janeway's health, about the fate of the ship, and about the relationship between the captain and commander. The ship's morale depended upon the coexistence of the Maquis and Starfleet, which in turn depended upon the collaboration between the captain and commander. If something were to happen between them, something to tear them apart, likely the ship and its entire crew would be torn apart as a result.

Sighing, B'Elanna looked up, and spotted a familiar thin frame. Furiously, she blinked, willing the vision not to be a hallucination brought on by too many hours fighting with alien technology. When the image persisted, she allowed herself a moment of jubilation.

"Captain!" Lieutenant Torres cried, resisting the overwhelming urge to run to the ghostly figure and hug her. "We sure could use your help." In her elation, she did not notice the apparatus keeping her captain erect, nor how heavily her commanding officer leaned against the adjacent wall. Nor did she question the captain's appearance in engineering mere hours after being pronounced dead. She was not going to look between a gift targ's legs.

"That's what I'm here for," Janeway asserted, stepping forward carefully. "Now, what are you trying to do?"

* * *

" _Do you want me to hail them again, my Queen?" he asked worriedly._

" _No, my child," she answered coolly. "We shall wait. If they attempt to escape, we will easily destroy them."_

_He bowed before her, taking note of the sharpness of her claws, and being careful not to antagonize her, lest he lose his head. "Respectfully, Your Grace and Goodness, it is taking a long time for them to produce the prisoner."_

_She twirled her antennae in a gesture of nonchalance. "It is possible that he himself is resisting. What hatchling would knowingly walk into his mother's mouth? I will give them a few more cycles to honor our agreement. We do not know much about them. This is an opportunity to learn."_

_Keeping his body low, he replied with concern. "That may be, My Mother, but how do you know they have not lied to us, and are using the current time to figure out how to destroy our ship, like they destroyed the last one?"_

" _Faith, little egg. If they intended to destroy us, they would have attempted to do so already. We may yet feast upon their juices, but their knowledge is likely to be more savory than their flesh."_

" _You are not like the others," he observed, trembling slightly in fear that he was being too bold. "You are patient and wise."_

_She reached towards him and gently stroked his head. "You flatter me. It becomes you."_

_He shivered with pleasure at the contact as he rose slightly from his subservient pose. "Is there anything I can do while we wait, Queen?"_

_She thought for a moment. "I trust you," she began. "I do not yet know whom else I can trust. Obviously my predecessor was betrayed by someone close to her. You shall be in charge of investigations aboard this vessel. Keep watch over all its operations, and inform me directly and promptly if any suspicious action is observed. We cannot be too careful if we are to avoid the fate of the other ship."_

" _I am honored to be blessed with such an exigent assignment. I will endeavor to guard you and yours with the utmost care." He bowed again, then, knowing he had gained her favor, and marveling at his good fortune._

" _I know that you will please me," she answered warmly, fully realizing that she was creating a self-fulfilling prophecy._ The love that you show your subjects will return to you ten-fold _, she'd been told during her training. So far, it seemed to be an accurate assessment._

 _However, there was another part of the adage she would be wise not to forget._ Any weakness you show your subjects will return to you as failure. _So, she would be ever-strong, ever-wise, as close to omniscient as a living being could be. No part of her doubted that this was within her capabilities, and as she watched her subject depart, she felt confident that her patience would be rewarded._

* * *

"Sickbay to bridge," came the voice of the Doctor.

Chakotay's heart leapt into his throat. "Go ahead."

"Tuvok has awakened, and has requested to speak with you."

The commander briefly grabbed a railing and squeezed as hard as he could. "And our guest?"

There was a moment of silence, and before the Doctor could formulate a reply, Chakotay spoke again. "Forget it. I'll be right there."

When he arrived in Sickbay, his suspicions were confirmed as he saw the blanket enshrouding an alien-shaped lump lying on a biobed. He gulped, even as he eyed Tuvok, who was sitting atop another biobed, his expression impassive on the surface, yet subtly revealing … guilt? _He should feel guilty. Hadn't the captain told him not to use that method of interrogation without her explicit permission?_

But the captain was incapacitated at the time Tuvok initiated the meld … yet, presumably, Chakotay should himself have been at least informed of the plans. _But wait_ … Tuvok was already in the brig when he awoke from his own spell. It seemed that Tuvok was, in fact, in command at the time, and so the decision was, admittedly, his to make.

Chakotay grumbled at the realization. "What happened?" he asked.

"My apologies, Commander, I …"

The first officer interrupted him. "Never mind that now. What's done is done. Did you find anything out?"

"Indeed," Tuvok replied hastily. "Some of the aliens, in fact, have replication technology, developed by a small group of scientists, of which our guest was one. However, it has been kept a secret from the leaders for … political reasons."

"Go on," Chakotay urged. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Yes. The aliens have a primitive mind-reading ability, but only after the death of the subject. They have a device capable of mapping a brain and identifying knowledge and memories from the pattern. The brain must be removed from the head in order to read it, hence why it cannot be applied to a living being. Also, only the current leader and immediate subordinates have the authority to use the machine."

Chakotay sucked in his breath. "So, if we hand over the body, they will be getting the technology we were trying so hard to hide from them? Along with anything the alien learned from your mind?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "It is a possibility. However, the mind meld was not like any I have ever experienced; I felt the creature's mind disintegrate even as I touched it. Whether this is due to peculiarities of its anatomy, or whether, since this creature harbored valuable secrets, its brain was modified to foil the encoding device, I was not able to discover. I suspect that, if it were the latter, our guest was not aware of it. The imprint left may not be coherent enough to be read by their instrument."

On the one hand, Chakotay hoped Tuvok's last supposition would prove correct, as there would be no worry of violations of the Prime Directive, nor implications to future interactions with a species even more formidable than they already were. On the other hand, if the creature's mind was so muddled that they could not read it, their alibi would be gone, and the alien leader would have no reason to believe they had not deliberately destroyed the other ship.

In any case, it was time to find out. He eyed the Doctor and Kes, who had begun an autopsy while he was speaking with the security officer.

"Doctor," he called, and the hologram looked up. "Prepare the body for transport to the alien ship. Is Tuvok free to leave?"

The EMH eyed the Vulcan, sighing impatiently. "Yes, he may go."

Chakotay looked back at the security officer. "Tuvok, you're with me."

As he turned to leave, he glanced towards the biobed on which Kathryn lay earlier, suddenly wondering why she'd been so quiet. Perhaps she was resting … she certainly needed it, as getting her to relax was always a struggle, and after her recent illness, it was most certainly a requirement for recovery. He wondered whether the Doctor had sedated her in order to get her to sleep.

After a cursory search, he realized she was missing entirely.

"Doctor, where is the captain?" he demanded.

The Doctor followed the commander's gaze and gasped. "I don't know. She can't possibly have walked out of here – she wasn't …"

It was then that he noticed the missing braces. "Oh dear."

Chakotay was alarmed. "What?"

"Actually, she could have walked out, using the muscle-training device I'd replicated for her, but it wasn't within her reach. In any case, it is intended for short-term use; there's no telling what might happen if she keeps it on for a prolonged time period, so early in her recovery process."

The commander blanched. _Just like Kathryn, to ignore the health consequences of her actions._ "Well, how would she have gotten it on, if it was out of her reach?"

"She must have had help. Kes and I were busy with Tuvok and the alien, and the only other person present was Neelix, who," he glanced around, "incidentally has also disappeared."

The Doctor was about to page the Talaxian, but the commander beat him to the punch. "Chakotay to Neelix," he ordered, tapping his communicator, even as he made his way towards the bridge, the Vulcan by his side.

"Yes, Commander?" he heard.

"Is the captain with you?"

"No, Commander. She said she had some duties to attend to. I'm in the kitchen now – it's almost lunch time, and there are hungry officers waiting."

Chakotay contemplated scolding Neelix for ignoring the fact that the captain was in no condition to be wandering around the ship, but he suspected Kathryn had been less than truthful with the Talaxian and had misled him into believing she was fit for duty, or at least had the Doctor's permission to do whatever she was doing. In any case, he could berate Neelix later. "Acknowledged," he responded before cutting the connection.

He steeled himself for a confrontation. He tapped his communicator again. "Chakotay to Janeway."

There was no response. _It figures. She's probably asleep, or deliberately misplaced her communicator so as not to be disturbed._

"Computer, location of Captain Janeway."

The computer's calm voice belied its words. "Captain Janeway is not aboard this vessel."


	13. Escape

Kathryn was cold. So cold … colder than she'd been since Tau Ceti Prime. The cold permeated her skin, bored through her bones, and settled in her core … just like it had then. This wasn't just physical cold; it was a loneliness that froze her very soul. Being a captain was isolating enough in normal circumstances, but when stranded light years away from friends and family without even a chance to let them know she was alive, the cold was nearly unbearable.

Most of the time, she tried not to think about it. But now, cramped into a freezing alien escape pod, with nobody even aware of her plan – it was safer this way; she'd dismissed B'Elanna and told her she'd be working on the device herself – it was difficult to keep her mind from wandering into the vacuum, a vacuum much like the one just centimeters from her skin, from which she was shielded only by the thinnest of walls. She wondered how long someone was expected to last in one of these things; it couldn't be long, not without water, rations, or heat – none of which she even saw a place for within its confines.

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, she neared the edge of the alien vessel's shield and inputted a command into her tricorder, which was interfaced with the pod's controls. If she weren't too busy trying not to shiver so much as to mistype the commands, she would have been proud of herself for figuring out how to use the two machines together to disrupt a small area of the force field, to poke a hole just large enough for her to squeeze through.

She held her breath as the tiny capsule passed through the puncture, seemingly undetected. _So far, so good_. Then, she inputted another command into her tricorder, and felt the familiar jolt of a tractor beam's pull. Moments later, she found herself in the aliens' shuttle bay, where she could finally get out and stretch her legs … that is, if the braces and her own wasted muscles would hold up.

She pressed the release to open the door. As light streamed into her eyes, she found herself looking directly into the face of a large-eyed arthropod.

* * *

_He was proud of himself for detecting the intrusion and intercepting the alien before it could infiltrate his ship. Although the sensors had not detected the pod itself, nor the life form inside of it, he had noticed the unauthorized opening of an airlock, and had immediately gone to investigate. When he saw that a pod had docked, he was convinced it was not empty, and his suspicion had just been confirmed.  
_

_His Queen would be proud. As he looked into the alien's stunned features – wondering, briefly, how he knew that it was stunned – perhaps because it was motionless, for the moment – he took a moment to imagine savoring its sweet flesh. As a reward for his loyal service, he fully expected a large piece of that flesh to be his, and his alone._

_Just then, the alien began to move – oddly, stiltedly. He noticed it had metal surrounding most of its body and wondered whether this was in fact a kind of armor – but, if so, it was clearly inefficient, as it made its wearer slow and awkward. He poised to capture the alien: She would want it alive, if possible, so that it could be interrogated before the slaughter._

_It was not difficult. The alien oddly allowed him to drag it away, burdened down by its heavy armor. It seemed to barely be able to move on its own. He wondered whether the metal exoskeleton was, perhaps, intended to be used in a zero-gravity environment. Did these aliens typically fight directly in space?_

_He wanted to ask it questions, but that was Her job. As he neared the passageway leading to Her chamber, he was taken by surprise by a sudden movement by his captive. Before he could react, he knew no more._

* * *

_Not aboard_ Voyager? _Where the heck could she have gone?_ Chakotay paced for a moment, fueled by fury. If … when he found her, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. Right now, he was in command, and she was insubordinate. For a moment, he considered that perhaps she had merely disabled her communicator, but _Voyager_ would be able to locate its captain from her life signs, even if her communicator were missing. Unless, of course, she were hidden by the cloaking device they were attempting – as far as he knew, still unsuccessfully – to fit for _Voyager_. But why would she hide herself from her own ship's sensors? Unless she were planning to go somewhere ... somewhere she didn't want to be detected.

Suddenly he had a feeling where she might be ... but how was that possible? What was she planning to accomplish? He needed answers, and he needed them now.

 _Damnit, she'll never forgive me for this, but I have no time to be discreet._ He ran to the nearest console and inputted the command for the loudspeaker. An alarm bell rang once to signal the importance of his announcement. "This is Commander Chakotay speaking. The captain's gone missing. If anyone has seen her recently, please contact me directly now." With that, he cut the link and waited.

On the bridge, several members of the crew exchanged surprised glances. _She's alive? Or did he mean that her body had been stolen?_

* * *

Janeway couldn't believe her good fortune that, unaware of her own inability to exit the cramped pod, the alien had unwittingly aided in her escape. She allowed it to half-drag, half-carry her for quite some time: to be honest, she didn't have much of a choice, as she had a feeling the braces would only be able to carry her so far, and it wasn't going to be far enough. And, in another stroke of tremendous serendipity, the alien took her almost directly past the engine room, if this ship were configured similarly to the last one she'd disabled. Judging by the identical shield modulation frequencies, the outward appearance, and the location of the shuttle bay, she suspected this ship was a twin of the other. Unfortunately, that meant that it would likely defeat _Voyager_ handily in battle … unless she was successful once again. At least this time she was no longer ill, but she was weak enough so that she needed to be careful not to lose consciousness, and subsequently her life, and the lives of her entire crew.

Taking her opportunity, she surprised her captor by pulling out her phaser – the alien had neglected to disarm her, perhaps because it figured if she'd had a weapon, she'd have used it earlier, when she first saw its face from inside the pod. The phaser was set on maximum stun, and she hoped it would be effective without permanently disabling or killing him. They'd done enough harm to this race, and she didn't wish to make herself any more trouble than necessary: even if they were able to successfully escape a second time, who knew what allies of these people they would encounter on their long journey home.

With that, she trudged the remaining distance to the control room. She anticipated the guards at its entrance and, peeking around the corner, stunned them before they could catch sight of her. She then entered the room and began to work.

* * *

B'Elanna was roused from fresh slumber by the sound of an alarm. Angry and exhausted, she barely understood the commander's words, but realized quickly that it was she with whom he wanted to speak immediately. Sighing, she tapped her communicator.

"Torres to Chakotay," she ordered. As he answered, she attempted unsuccessfully to stifle a rather large yawn.

"I saw the captain about half an hour ago," she admitted. "She told me she had the project under control and that I ought to take a rest ... which I was just doing."

Chakotay bit his tongue. As with Neelix, he planned to reprimand the chief engineer at a later date. For now, the captain's safety was paramount. "Do you have any idea how she got off the ship?"

Now B'Elanna was wide awake. "Off the ship?" she echoed, astonished. "What do you mean off the ship?"

Chakotay sighed. "Did she have access to the alien's escape pod?" he asked.

"Of course," B'Elanna answered quickly. "That was where the cloaking device was. Maybe she's just testing it, and she hasn't left the ship after all, but her life signs are masked."

"Okay," conceded Chakotay, "Fine, let's go with that. Where is the pod?"

"It's in the cargo bay," she responded, "right where we left it." Then, with a quaver in her voice, "Isn't it?"

Chakotay was already heading towards the aforementioned destination. "We shall see."

Moments later, they had their answer. Like the captain, the escape pod was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The captain manipulated the controls as quickly as she could, noting the slowness of her fingers, but aided by having performed the same procedure not too long ago. The controls were, indeed, identical to the ones on the other ship. She hoped that, like on the other ship, there was no backup system that would take over once this one was disabled. This species' philosophy seemed to be opposite to that of Klingons: redundancy was deemed unnecessary and wasteful. She wondered if, after losing control of two of their flagships, they might change that philosophy. However, without the leaked information from the alien traitor, even she would not have been able to disable their system, even with access to the control room – not without causing an explosion that would destroy the ship and everything in it – including herself.

She had nearly finished when she heard the sound of creatures approaching, and knew she was caught. Her sluggish fingers were able to complete the task just as she was recaptured. She reached for her communicator to order a transport, but this one was quicker than the last, intercepting her arm with one limb and confiscating the pin with another. Knowing it would be ineffective but having to at least try, she used her other arm to reach for her phaser, which was similarly snatched before she could touch it. Resigning herself to her fate, she allowed herself once again to be carried away.

She was brought into an ornate chamber she surmised must belong to the leader of this species. In the center of the room, surrounded by several guards, was an alien who was inexplicably regal, both in its stature and its demeanor.

Even as she anticipated her own demise, Kathryn Janeway realized she was looking at one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever beheld. And when that creature began to ask her questions, she had to fight her instinct to reply fully and honestly. Something about … her? … made Kathryn want to kneel and obey fully.

As she was questioned, two of the guards prodded around her, attempting to remove the braces allowing her to stand. They succeeded almost immediately, and Janeway collapsed awkwardly onto the floor.

"Get up," she was ordered, but as she attempted to comply, her vision darkened and she collapsed anew.

* * *

Chakotay was hardly surprised when he received notification that the alien ship was hailing _Voyager_. Of course they would want the prisoner they'd been promised. As he made his way to the bridge, he contemplated how he was going to explain that prisoner's death, and hoped against all hope that was all they were calling about.

When he arrived on the bridge, he braced himself for the worst before ordering, "On screen."

The alien appeared – and this one was different than the others, but he could not pinpoint how. All he knew is that it commanded respect.

"There has been an … incident," he admitted. "The prisoner we promised you has been killed."

The alien made a strange motion, twittering its antennae. "Understood," it answered. "I would have done the same, had I captured one of yours who could not be trusted. I expect you will return the body, just as we will return yours."

Chakotay's heart leapt into his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time since they'd entered the aliens' space. "Ours?" he croaked, knowing to whom it referred, but not wanting to admit the truth of the situation until it was undeniable.

"Indeed," answered the alien confidently. Then, it motioned to its guards, who lifted the limp body of Captain Janeway into view. The commander closed his eyes for a moment against the offending vision, steeling himself for a difficult negotiation.

While he was composing himself, he thought he heard his name whispered, and turned towards the noise in order to keep it under control. The one who had spoken was Harry Kim, and urgency shone in his face.

Chakotay turned back towards the viewscreen. "Please wait a moment while we discuss the situation amongst ourselves," he bade the aliens, hoping Harry would have good news. Then he cut the connection.

"Their shields are down!" Harry exclaimed once the screen went blank. "Do you want me to beam the captain aboard?"

The commander was about to give the order to do so – wishing Harry would have just taken initiative and done it without even asking – but then he remembered that the aliens did not know about transporter technology and they should not risk demonstrating it if not absolutely necessary. If the captain was already dead, it wasn't worth it just to retrieve her corpse when they were being offered the body in trade.

Then the ensign added something that changed his mind. "She's alive, and as far as I can tell, their weapons are out."

Chakotay gulped, quickly devising a plan. It was definitely worth the risk if the captain's life was still salvageable. "Okay, I'll reinitiate the link. As soon as you are able, I want you to beam her directly to Sickbay, but simultaneously beam our prisoner into her place." He turned towards the helm. "Then, Lieutenant, I want you to get us out of here, maximum warp."

"Aye, Sir," answered two voices simultaneously.

* * *

_She was angry, very angry, and somebody was going to pay. How could her most trusted assistant have failed to mention that their prisoner had disabled their ship before being captured?_

_This was obviously how the last Queen had been defeated. She would take steps to make sure it did not happen again. Even now, the ship was under repair, and while the brain of the tinkerer had been unreadable, at least his flesh – what little there was of it – had not been wasted. She wondered why the aliens had bothered returning the tinkerer's body at all, given that they seemed able to retrieve their crew member without trouble. Was it possible the exchange was necessary, some sort of equal mass transfer? Or did they not realize that he was unreadable, and hoped his mind would exonerate them? Or perhaps, were they guilty, but hoped the return of the body, which they knew provided no definitive information, would make it look like they were innocent?_

_The only evidence that the aliens did not intentionally destroy the other ship was the fact that they had made no attempt to destroy her own, even though they had left it completely vulnerable._

_This enigma would have to be contemplated. But first, there would be an execution, and then a feast to celebrate the repairs, once they were complete._

_Next time, they would be prepared. No alien had ever escaped their space before, and no alien ever would again._


	14. Epilogue

As the ship raced away from the fearsome aliens, Chakotay sat by the bedside of his unconscious captain, wishing he could run from her as well.

But he could no more escape her command – over his emotions as well as his ship and crew – than a trapped insect could escape a spider's web.

Unlike the insect, however, he was determined not to dissolve into digestible goo. _Although she did … to save you_. He shuddered at the thought, but renewed his resolve to remain independent of mind and spirit. It was already more than he could bear to _almost_ lose her; he couldn't imagine the fate _Voyager_ would suffer under his command – or even Tuvok's, should he abdicate – if they weren't so lucky next time. He couldn't afford to get any closer than he already was, and he needed to at least attempt to distance himself from this dangerous creature lying prone before him.

"It's okay to touch her," he heard the Doctor interrupt his thoughts. "It will aid in her recovery."

The commander nodded, reaching out to stroke her arm. But sharply, he drew back. He couldn't … not now. If he touched her, he would dissolve. "I have to go," he announced, rising from his seat.

As he looked back at her frail form, he blinked back tears – tears of regret at what he was giving up for the safety of all the people aboard the ship.

_If we ever get back, I will grab onto her and never let her go. I can afford to be selfish then._

* * *

_He knelt before her, his head bowed in deference to his mistress._

" _You have disappointed me," she stated perfunctorily. "Protocol dictates that your life be sacrificed to maintain the order that gives us meaning."_

_He remained motionless, knowing that he was forbidden to speak, and had nothing to say even if he were permitted. He had failed her, and his shame seemed to emanate from his core to the tips of all his limbs. He deserved nothing other than his fate._

" _However," she continued, pausing to allow the word to be processed by her underlings, "this was the protocol followed by my predecessor, who managed to lose her life, her ship, and her crew."_

_At that, his antennae quivered with confusion and hope._

" _It is my prerogative," she asserted, "to change the protocols when they fail to serve our needs. Come here," she ordered._

_Trembling nearly uncontrollably, he approached his queen._

" _I hereby grant you your life," she stated, lightly touching his head with her sharp claw. "Your job henceforward is to prevent anyone else from making the same mistakes you did. Never again shall we lose an enemy prisoner. Are you capable of this task?"_

" _Yes, Highness," he answered gratefully, not quite believing what he was hearing. "I shall not disappoint you again."_

" _If you do, I shall not hesitate to feast upon your flesh," she responded coolly._

" _I understand," he replied, still bent before her._

" _Take him away," she ordered, and at once several guards approached and escorted him out._

_She hoped she had made a wise decision. They had not returned from the altercation with new technology, nor even exotic flesh on which to dine, but she was determined not to come away empty-clawed. If there was something to be learned from their peculiar behavior, she would know it, and use it to benefit her people. From the demeanor of her spared subject, she suspected she may soon learn a love none of her predecessors had ever known._

_But this path, too, was fraught with danger. As readily as some may obey a merciful leader, others may perceive her as weak, and take the opportunity to rebel. But traitors had already been in their midst, and had cost lives, ships, and most of all the opportunity to gain valuable information and food. Would a new direction lead to even more rebellion, or eliminate it entirely?_

_Only time would tell whether the silk she spun would lead to glistening beauty and bountiful sustenance._

* * *

Groggily, Kathryn awoke, and immediately felt as if something – someone – were missing.

_Chakotay. He must have had to return to duty. I wonder what crisis he's gotten us into now? I'd best speed my recovery before he destroys the ship._

With difficulty, she sat up, and grabbed hold of the biobed as her vision blurred slightly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, only to feel a hand on her chest, forcing her to lie down once more.

"Easy, Captain," she heard, and it was not the voice she wanted so desperately to hear. Sure, she was angry with him … and briefly wondered whether his absence was due to fear of punishment for putting the ship in danger. But truth be told, she was grateful to be alive, and still credited her survival to the memory of the tender embrace that kept her warm in the cold and gave her courage to persevere.

The holographic doctor, on the other hand, offered little comfort. And having escaped him once, she doubted she'd be able to do so again. She sighed, resigning herself to her fate, then looked him in the eye. She steeled herself for the request. "May I have some leola broth, please?"

"Hrmph," the Doctor replied grumpily, attempting to calculate all the possible ways in which she might evade his medical advice in the immediate future. "Only if you promise not to get up until I tell you it's okay. I'm not even going to replicate another set of braces until you're ready to use them."

She nodded weakly. "I promise." _At least until I find out that someone else has put_ Voyager _in danger._

The Doctor eyed her again, curiously, then briefly left, returning with a bowl of steaming liquid and a spoon. He then supported her as she sat up, more slowly this time, and without the adverse effect.

Again, she choked down the soup, along with tears of humiliation that threatened to erupt from the corners of her eyes. She hadn't felt this helpless in a long time, and it didn't suit her. She was supposed to be the one taking care of her crew, not the other way around.

 _At least it's just the hologram._ She comforted herself with the thought that she need not reveal her vulnerability to the rest of the crew. _Not even Kes … where is Kes?_

As if to thwart her self-reassurance, the object of her musings entered through the Sickbay doors.

"Ah, Kes," the EMH acknowledged. "I could use your help here."

_Please don't let him make her feed me._

The girl nodded, but before speaking, ran to the captain and embraced her gently, but firmly. Slightly surprised, Kathryn wrapped her arms around the Ocampa and lightly patted her back.

"Oh, Captain," Kes cooed breathlessly. "We were so worried … I'm so glad you're going to be okay ... you are going to be okay, aren't you?" The young woman then turned to the Doctor for confirmation, and he nodded.

Despite herself, the captain had to repress a giggle at Kes's overzealous concern. "I'm fine, Kes. Just a few days and I'll be good as new."

At that, Kes hugged her again, then pulled away. "What can I help you with, Doctor?"

* * *

_The tinkerers gathered in dim light, paper notes gathered possessively in clenched claws._

" _There has been a loss in our community," the leader spoke. "This one was dangerously close to revealing our secrets to the queen. We must discuss."_

_Tentatively, one spoke up. "I have heard, Master, that the new queen is not like the others. The day we have awaited for generations may be arriving."_

_The leader's antennae twitched. "That may be, but we cannot risk destroying our web before our egg sac has been laid."_

" _Agreed," spoke another. "We must still wait. What is another 32,768 cycles?"_

" _It may not be that long. We have already heard she has chosen not to execute one of her crew members, the one that nearly got the ship destroyed like its predecessor."_

_There was a collective clicking as the news that she had saved a life was digested._

" _Was there a reason given?" a young one queried._

" _We have not received that information, but we have some theories. We believe the alien species they last encountered may have influenced her thinking. Ordinarily, we would push to replace her immediately, as she is clearly impaired, but this may work to our advantage."_

_The murmurs grew louder. The leader raised several of his limbs to quiet the crowd. "We must be patient," he reminded them. "Remember, any attempt to reveal sensitive information will result in your death. Our comrade martyred himself to protect us; do not join him without reason. You risk being consumed by your partner before mating is complete."_

_They seemed to understand._

* * *

**Three weeks later…**

An uneasy Chakotay stood at attention in the captain's ready room.

Janeway eyed him curiously. "At ease, Commander," she ordered, not even attempting to hide her surprise that the order was necessary.

She met his eyes, attempting to discern his thoughts, to no avail. "Do you know why you're here, Chakotay?" she asked, seriously wondering if the answer was negative.

"I have a good idea," he replied, not bothering to elaborate.

"You've been avoiding me," she accused.

"I've been busy," he answered, "running your ship. And then I was catching up on some much-needed rest."

 _Plausible, but completely untruthful_ , she concluded. She continued to stare him down, silently, knowing he would break.

She was not mistaken. "Permission to speak," he requested, fidgeting slightly.

"Granted," she spoke automatically. _This is going to be good_.

"I …" His voice trailed off then, as if he'd lost his nerve.

"Spit it out, Chakotay. It's just me." She moved towards him, made a motion to touch his arm as she had so many times before.

He flinched, pulled away. She clenched her jaw, attempting not to audibly gasp. _This is new_.

"Look, Kathryn … Captain," he began, rushing his words as if to get them out before they could become trapped. "You put yourself in danger unnecessarily. You almost died … again. I can't … you can't do this to the crew. You should have seen them when they thought you were dead. I can't control them like that. They were … we were all wrecks. I …" Suddenly, he had no more words, and bit his lip as a solitary tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

She circled him slightly, crossed her arms, and gazed into his eyes. "What are you saying?"

He took a deep breath. "I'll serve you faithfully," he told her. "But that's it. I can't … nothing more. And I'm going to disagree with your decisions, sometimes. But I'll obey."

She raised an eyebrow, then lowered her voice to a volume barely audible above the hum of the ship's engines. "Chakotay, I've always valued your counsel. If you disagree with me, I appreciate your telling me so … in private."

"Permission to speak freely."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"You never listen. I express my reservations and you go off and risk your life anyway. Do you even have a clue what putting yourself in danger does to this crew? To me?"

"I know," she admitted calmly. "There was no other way."

"How do you know?" he questioned, his voice betraying his frustration. "You didn't even take the time to consider other options. You're reckless, hasty, undisciplined. And you're going to get yourself killed –" The moment it came out, he regretted it.

For a moment, she just stood there, quietly, absorbing his tirade. Finally, she broke the awkward silence, still speaking softly. "I certainly hope not, but if I do, it will be to save the lives of everyone else on this ship. And if it does happen, I need to be able to count on you to bring them home."

His heart sank in his chest. She wasn't even _angry_. He'd expected an argument, and all he was getting was resignation. And more respect than he deserved. She hadn't even reminded him that _he'd_ put the whole ship in danger just to save _her_.

Then it dawned on him. He'd seen her naked, soiled, ill. He'd held her in his arms at her most vulnerable. Her cards were all on the table. Either she was handling the whole thing _really_ well, or she wasn't handling it at all.

Suddenly he softened. "Kathryn, are you okay?"

 _About as well as possible, given the lack of your support over the last few weeks._ "I'm fine," she responded. "Can I count on you?" she reiterated.

"Always," he answered easily.

"Good. You're dismissed."

His mouth agape at the abrupt end to the meeting, he turned and walked onto the bridge.

Alone again, she collapsed into her chair and laid her head in her hands. The loneliness of her post had never been more palpable. And yet, while Chakotay had all but denied her his friendship, somehow he had given her hope. He'd provided support even whilst promising not to.

 _My Angry Warrior is an enigma indeed_.

They'd continue their conversation at a later date, she was sure. But for now, this had to be enough.


End file.
